Don't Call Me Apollina
by Temporarily-Obsessed
Summary: DISCONTINUED When your name is Apollina, you have it hard. When you're a demigod, it's even worse. When you're in love with Nico di Angelo, it's indescribable. But when you're pregnant with his kid at 15...? Yeah, that's when you know you're in deep crap.
1. Complicated

**Don't Call Me Apollina**

_Chapter I: Complicated_

My name is Apollina Victoria O'Reilly, but I swear to God, if you call me Apollina, I will not stop until I found your darkest secret and blackmail you with it. Call me Torie.

If you want to know what I look like, first know that I'm not pretty. I'm not ugly, either, but I'm not pretty. I'm plain. I've learned to live with it. My hair is auburn and straight, and my eyes are kinda black-violet-ish. I've got nice eyelashes; they're long and curl just right. My nose is a little big, and straight. I'm short; the last time I got measured, I was 5'2, and I'm too skinny at 95 pounds. My skin is actually pretty nice; it's a golden-tan with delicate little rust-colored freckles and _no zits at all_. I've never had a single pimple, and I thank God every day for that. I have a few moles, and my most prominent one is right underneath my right eye. I think it makes me look sophisticated. Georgina thinks it makes me look French, in a bad way. _Riiiiiiiight_.

Georgina is my only friend.

See, I live in two places. My school-year home is in New York City, New York. My summer home is just outside the Big Apple. Georgina lives at my summer location all-year-round. What is this place called, you may ask? I would answer: Camp Half-Blood. It's for demigods. I'm a demigod.

Go figure.

See, demigods are the kids of 100% normal (or 10%; it doesn't really matter) humans and a god. In Georgina's case, this means her dad is a guy named George Johnson, but her mom is the goddess Demeter. Georgina has these gorgeous dark blond curls, perfectly formed, and pretty blue eyes. She's not skinny, but she's not fat- she's _sturdy_. Seriously. It's all muscle. She's short, though- like me, but even shorter- about 5'1.

In case you can't tell, I envy her on a lot of points. Not her height, though. I want to be tall. My mom is short, though, so I've got no hope unless my dad is like, Ares or Zeus, which I completely doubt.

I actually have no clue who my father is; my mom insists it's Apollo, hence the horrible aforementioned name, but I don't think so. I mean, sure, I like writing poetry and the sun, but I can't stand the sight or smell of blood, which makes me a crap healer, and me driving? Yeah, me + car = New York City in flames. In other words, not a good idea. And no one _likes_ my poetry. According to my readers, it's "depressing," "melancholy," "boring," "dark," and "stupid". (The last is Georgina.) And I don't _look_ like the daughter of the sun god! Yeah, I've got red hair, and yeah, I've got tan skin, but first of all, black eyes? No. Short and skinny? Not sun god-like. Permanent scowl? Not very sunny. No way is my dad Apollo. My mom must've been on crack when she named me.

…that would explain a lot, actually. About me, anyways.

But I digress. My dad is _not_ Apollo. Or Ares. Or Zeus. _Definitely_ not Zeus.

* * *

"Maaaaaaaaa!" I bleat. "It's time to _go_!"

"Gimme a sec, Torie!" she hollers back. Much more than a 'sec' later (i.e., about two minutes), she bounds out of the apartment into the shiny, fancy hall, pulling her brilliant red curls behind her head in an attempt to tame them into a ponytail. Needless to say, she failed, as per usual.

We live in the second-biggest apartment in our building. My mom is a genius; she draws, designs, translates, writes, critiques, and much, much more. Therefore, we are more than comfortably well off. Why couldn't I have gotten her brains? No, instead I had to get brains of a goldfish swimming in pineapple juice. I'm not sure what pineapple juice does to fish, but it can't be good. Or so I conclude.

Our building is quite nice and jolly expensive, but of course my mom is totally oblivious to the massive amounts of money we waste on our very nice apartment. Don't get me wrong, I love my home- I've been living in it since I was five- but I still think it's too expensive.

My mom's name is Mary O'Reilly. She's 5'0 and slender without being skinny, and she has creamy-ivory skin with a few artistic moles. Her nose is this pert little button, and her lips are perfect, just like the rest of her (save the hair). (And her height.)

I love Mom, but she is totally scatterbrained, despite her genius. She forgets to lock the car and forgets appointments two minutes after making them. She can divide pi to like, a thousand places, but ask her when she last ate, and she'll draw a blank. It makes no sense whatsoever, but what can I do? Remember for her. That's it.

Except during the summer. During the summer, I go to Camp Half-Blood.

Which I will late to now, thanks to my ever-absentminded mother.

We finally manage to leave (after going back for her keys. Twice) and make our way to my summer home.

This time, though, there's something I'm not telling her. This is rare for us, but a war is brewing between the gods and the Titans, and Mom wouldn't let me go if she knew I was going to be part of it. But I _have _to help. It's vital.

We're all on pins and needles, waiting for the big battle to start so we can go get our almost-16-years-old champion, Percy Jackson. He's tall, black-haired, green-eyed, completely cute, and totally taken. See, everyone's known for summers now that Annabeth Chase, daughter of Athena, and Percy are crushing massively on each other. They're going to end up together eventually. We all know it.

But again, I digress. Percy has to survive to 16 to fulfill the Big Prophecy, and he's about a week away for said goal. But we can wait that long. I think. Ish.

So we get to camp, Mom drops me off and I head into the bustle. I find Georgina, sharpening swords.

"Hey, loser," she greets me without looking up.

I've gotten used to it.

"Hey, 'Gina," I reply. "How are you?"

"Worse now that you're here."

"Thanks. Love you too."

"Can you help me here, dickhead?" she snaps. "Or are you just gonna sit there?"

"I'll help," I answer, jumping off the rock I made my seat. "What would you like me to do?"

"Pick up a damn sword and sharpen it," she growls, rolling her eyes.

"Got it," I mutter sarcastically. But not so Georgina can hear me.

So we stand there for _hours_, sharpening swords that someone else is going to use. Finally, we leave for dinner, where Georgina sacrifices part of her dinner to Demeter and I sacrifice four strawberries and a chicken leg to whoever my father is. This time, it smells like fresh-cut grass, warm wood, and summer blossoms.

I wish I knew who he was. Everyone in the Hermes cabin hates me, I think. That's how they act most of the time, anyway. Maybe my blood brothers and sisters would accept me more. It's doubtful, but I can hope.

So then we eat, and then we go shower, and then we go to our cabins and sleep. Then, after what feels like four seconds, I have to wake up. So I go to breakfast, eat some cereal, and go practice my archery. I suck at archery. Actually, I suck at archery, sword-fighting, spear-fighting, knife-fighting, and pretty much any kind of fighting the camp offers. I cannot fight at all, not even at fistfight- I'm too weak. Georgina is slightly better than me at all of them, except knife-fighting, in which she excels. It's so unfair; I'm gonna be useless in the battle.

I see Annabeth, who is like, my role-model, knife-fighting Clarisse La Rue, who, to be frank, terrifies me. Annabeth wins, and then they move on spear-fighting, which Clarisse wins, and then sword-fighting, in which they tie.

They are amazingly good at fighting. I'm amazingly sucky. That's just how it works.

* * *

Long story short, we win the battle with the help of our ever-cool Percy Jackson! Yet, Luke died... he was one of the few people in the Hermes cabin who was nice to me, so I actually miss him, even if he was a bit of a prick.

So we go to Olympus, and Percy has to go talk to the Big Dudes (and Dudinas). When he comes back, he's got that sun-shiny look about him that says he got _exactly_ what he wanted. I imagine several scenarios where he gets something special, and finally I decide it must be something completely unselfish that made him so happy. He's just like that.

He explains how he got the gods to a) let Calypso go do whatever she feels like doing b) get our god parents to claim us by 13, and c) every god, big or small, gets a cabin and a throne. Why he cared about Calypso, I don't know, but whatever.

Then we go back to camp, and a whole bunch of people get claimed at once. I'm waiting and feeling like a complete loser when I look up and a giant glowing golden sun is over my head.

My first thought? Aw, crap, Mom was right.

Then: Of course. It takes a battle of the gods to get _my own father_ to claim me as his daughter.

Finally: I'm moving out of the Hermes cabin? _Thank the gods._ No, you know what? Thank Percy Jackson.

* * *

The Apollo cabin is painted a pretty golden color, with a reddish clay-tile roof. The windows are huge and have seats on them.

The inside is even better. The walls are the same gold as the outside, except the ceiling, which is sky-blue with clouds and suns painted on it in the Ancient Grecian style.

I end up on a top bunk, which is awesome, because I love heights (they make me feel tall), and a bureau all to myself! And it gets better.

Everyone in the cabin is really nice to me, except one girl, but I can live with that. My cabin leader is a girl with thick reddish-gold waves curling down her back and light golden-brown eyes. She's got the same golden-tan skin that have, but without the freckles. Her name is normal, too- Dawn Johnson. Everyone makes me feel welcome and comforted. I feel, for once, like I just fit in. I actually _like_ the feeling.

The cabin warm and inviting, but I want to join the celebrations outside, so I run outside, one of those stupid huge grins on my faces that I see all around, when I run smack into- _smack_- a dark-haired boy.

Literally. I heard a 'smack'.

He's taller than me, with black silky hair and dark brown eyes and olive skin, and he looks about a year or so older than me. He's very cute, very apologetic, very sweet, and very out of my league. So of course I try to flirt with him.

"Where's your cabin?" I ask, shuffling my toes against the grass. (I'm a very inept flirter.)

"It's not built yet," he replies, smiling slightly.

"Oh. So, then, who's your godly parent?" I peek up at him He notices, so I duck my head and blush. _Curse you, cheeks._

"Hades," he responds casually. I jump and stare at him, wide-eyed.

"Seriously?" I squeak in awe.

"Seriously," he sighs.

"That's so _cool_!" I shriek. "My dad's only Apollo!"

"Kinda makes us opposites, doesn't it?" he laughs. "What's your name?"

"Torie. You?" I reply, pulling my hair off my neck into a messy ponytail.

"Torie…?" he presses.

"Torie O'Reilly. What's _your_ name?" I answer, folding my lightly freckled arms.

"Nico di Angelo." He smiles at me. "I feel like I'm being interrogated."

"If I was interrogating you, you'd know it," I answer with a smirk. "Believe me; you'd barely be able to breathe from fear."

Nico snorts. "I'm real sure, shorty."

"I can be intimidating," I protest.

"Yeah, right," he laughs. "How old are you?"

"Thirteen. How 'bout you?" I toss my head slightly to dislodge the hair in my eyes.

"Fourteen, and again with the interrogation."

I put my hands up. "You asked first. I'm just responding in like."

Nico glances at his wristwatch. "Look, I gotta go. We'll talk sometime, 'kay?"

"'Kay," I mutter. _Must be boring him._

"Nice to meet you," he says over his shoulder. "See ya."

"Bye," I call at his retreating back.

_Too bad he's out of my league._

It was two years before we really talked again. And even then, it wasn't really _talking_, per se.


	2. I Want You Baby

**_Thanks to everyone who favorited and alerted! A special thanks to _**kevlan3001**_, _**Sarra Salmalin**_, and _**Miss Apple Pie**_!_****_ You guys made my week! Love, chrissyissy_**

_Chapter II: I Want You Baby_

There are things in life you later regret doing, if only for the shame in the wake of doing them. See, I never had that problem.

That doesn't mean I don't do bad things. I do, all the time. And it's not to say I didn't know they were bad and realize I probably shouldn't have done; I just didn't regret them. I was just waiting all the time for my comeuppance. I suppose it has to come eventually.

Okay, so it's been two years since I got claimed by my dad, and I have some friends among my siblings now, but Georgina is the one I hang around the most. I've talked to Nico a few times, but we never became bosom buddies or anything. Just passing conversation.

I'm having a pretty good day. It's early June, a couple days after I came back to camp, and everything is going my way. Georgina hasn't called me a name all day, I'm turning 15 in two days, and I feet like I look good.

I'm wearing my orange Camp Half-Blood shirt, and while orange isn't my best color, it didn't clash too badly with my hair today. My hair, now to the middle of my back, was in a French braid, which Dawn had done for me. My shorts are not something Mom would approve of, being tiny and made of light denim, but I feel pretty in them and Mom's not here, so there. My sandals I bought last year at the camp store for $5, and I love them- they look like they're from Ancient Greece.

Come to think of it, they probably are.

I'm jogging to the pool, and I have my black polka-dot bikini underneath my clothes, and I'm really looking forward to a swim so I can rinse off the sweat I got during my jog. It's steaming outside- you can practically see the waves of heat peeling off the grass.

Three guesses who I run into?

Percy Jackson, Rachel Elizabeth Dare, or Nico di Angelo?

Of course it's Nico.

"Whoa," he says, catching me by my shoulders. "Hope you're not making this a habit."

"I'll work on it," I laugh. "What's up?"

"I just got a quest," he says excitedly. "I'm taking Thomas and Taylor." Thomas is a boy from the Aphrodite cabin, and Taylor is a girl from the Dionysus cabin. They hang around Nico a lot.

"What's the quest?" I query happily.

"I have to go find some missing satyrs," he replies. "They're disappearing at a fast rate, and Mr. D is worried, whether or not he'll admit it."

"That's a good idea, then," I reply with a smile. "When are you leaving?"

"Two weeks," he says. "It's gonna take a while to get all the supplies together. And "Thomas needs some training up," he added with a laugh.

I laugh with him. Thomas avoids any and all physical work, so I imagine he needs a fair bit of work to get him ready for a quest.

"Hey, where're you going?" he asks me once we stop laughing.

"The pool," I reply. "Wanna come with?"

"Sure, just gimme a sec to get changed," he answers with a crinkly-eyed smile. "I don't take forever like girls do."

"I don't take forever," I say sniffily, pretending to be offended. "Just a century."

"Minor detail," he replies with a weave of his hand. "Wait here, okay?"

So I wait a few minutes in the sweltering sunfor him. Hey, you would too, if you saw him, unless you were a guy or, like, a lesbian.

"I'm back," he calls, jogging up, a towel slung over his orange-clad shoulder. "And I didn't even take a century."

"Oh, shush."

When we get to the pool, I get hit with a dose of shy once I realize that I will be wearing less than what I wear as underwear in front of a very cute boy. He, while I am thinking this, pulls off his neon shirt. _Oh gods... _

"Maybe I'll just suntan," I say nervously, tugging on the hem of my shorts.

"No way," Nico says immediately. "I you get to see me without a shirt, I get to see you in a swimsuit."

"But even without your shirt, you're wearing way more material than I am!" I protest exasperatedly. Nico just cocks an eyebrow and squinches his finger in a 'come here' gesture.

"No," I say stoutly. Then he jumps me.

"No!" I squeal, twisting, trying to get him off me. Meanwhile, he's peeling my shirt off. The people in the pool watch in amazement. "Stop!" But I'm giggling so hard, he might not be able to understand me.

"There!" Nico shouts triumphantly, waving my camp shirt above his head like a flag.

"Fine!" I cry, unbuttoning my shorts and wriggling out of them. "Happy?" I snort, standing like I'm about to get attacked.

"Whoa," Nico says, awe on his face, but I think he's faking it.

_That's what I'm thinking,_ passes through my head. Nico's tanned olive abs are glorious, and his hair shines like a polished stone in the bright sunlight. His chest is still smooth, which I like, and the look of appreciation on his face is really hot.

I can only imagine how I look; my skin is kinda pale, since I haven't had any time to tan yet, I'm all sweaty, and you can pretty much count my ribs. I have almost no boobs- I barely fit in an A-cup- and my stomach is pathetic compared to his. I must look horrible.

At least my legs are shaved.

"Let's swim," I mutter, crossing my arms over my stomach.

"Okay," Nico says happily, grabbing me bridal-style and sprinting towards the pool. I shriek "No!" but Nico jumps in anyway. Water explodes around us, and then we are lifted to the surface by plethora of silvery bubbles.

"Nico!" I wail, wiping spiderwebbing red hair off my face.

"Wanna do it again?" he says with a smirk in his dark eyes.

"No!" I shriek at him, splashing water at him with my hands.

"Hey!" he cries, rubbing his eyes. Then he splashes me back.

"This means war!" I declare, and I return the favor.

* * *

"Torie?" Nico calls after me as I leave my table after dinner. "Wait up."

I wait up for him.

"Wanna go on a walk with me or something?" he says with a smile.

"Sure!" I say, my cheeks hurting from my massive smile. "Where to?"

"Uh, I dunno. The lake?" he offers.

"Works for me," I shrug. We begin to work our way to the lake path.

"Can I…? Is it okay if I hold your hand?" Nico stutters. I simply offer my own appendage. He takes it into his cool hand.

When we reach the lake's edge, we sit down on grassy dirt. For a few minutes, we just sit there, holding hands and thinking.

"Torie?"

"Hmm?"

"How old are you now?"

I give a small laugh. "Well, I'm not thirteen any more."

"Please?"

"I'll be fifteen next week," I answer. "You're sixteen now, right?"

"Yeah, four months ago," he replies with a reminiscent grin. "You don't think that's too big a gap?"

"No, not really…" I say, thinking about it. "I mean, when you think about, my dad was, like, hundreds of years old when he procreated with my mom, who was 18. When you compare our age difference to that, it seems kinda measly, don't you think?"

"Yeah, but Apollo and your mom didn't make it as a couple… they just did the nasty and went their separate ways."

"'Did the nasty'?" I crack up. "Did you seriously just say that?"

"That's how my sister talked!" he says defensively.

"You have a sister?" I say, surprised.

"Had… Bianca. She died."

"Oh." I know enough about Nico to know not to push it.

We sit in silence for a few more minutes. The sun begins to set.

"We should probably go to our cabins," I say, standing up and stretching. Nico stands with a funny look on his face.

"What's wrong?" I ask, hoping he isn't going to cry. I'm _not _a good comforter.

"I was just thinking… maybe someday… soon-ish… I could possibly… kiss you?"

"Dude, I've had a crush on you for two years- I'd be totally okay with that." A silence slips between us. "I actually said that, didn't I?"

"Yeah," he laughs. "Walk you to your cabin?"

"I'd like that," I say, grinning. "Do I get a good-night kiss?"

"If you're good," he says with a wink. I giggle and grab his hand again. The walk back is filled with laughs, jokes, and thoughts. Much too soon, we're at the Apollo cabin.

"Well…?" I say, smiling at Nico.

"Um. Good-night?" he says tentatively. I can't help the sink in my gut.

"Yeah." I swallow and fake a smile. "Good-night."

I open the door and I'm about to slip in when Nico grabs my hand and pulls me toward him. In what seems like slow motion, his face looms towards mine heartaching-loveliness. Our lips meet.

It's pretty nice, actually. I've heard tons of kissing horror stories, but… this is wonderful. It's like sunshine and cookies and Red Rose tea with milk and sugar. It's not like his tongue is in my mouth or anything, but it's still so amazing. I can feel his lips like the rim of a cup against my mouth, but the light pressure feels natural. And just as I start to over-analyze the situation, Nico pulls away. My heart flutters like pages in the wind, and I open my eyes, which I didn't even realize I'd closed. I look up at him, feeling slightly dizzy. And it wasn't even that long a kiss; it was only a few seconds, but it felt like a blissful eternity.

"Wow," Nico whispers, unintentionally blowing spearmint-scented breath in my face.

"Wow," I agree breathlessly.

"Good-night," we say simultaneously, and then, as though choreographed, we pull together and kiss again, dancing our lips over the others' mouth like butterfly wings.

"Just say good-night and leave her already!" one of my brothers yells out, a comedian named called Con. He's shushed by what sounds like the whole Apollo cabin. I turn to see that the window nearest to Nico and I is crowded with all the girls and some of the boys. I feel a bright blush heating up my cheeks.

"Night," I whisper and kiss his cheek before rushing into my cabin.

Gods. Now I have to face my family.


	3. I'm Not That Girl

**_Special thanks to _**Miss Apple Pie**_, _**whosaidicared_**, and **_**Sarra Salmalin****!**

_Chapter III: I'm Not That Girl_

"Ooh, lover girl," Carlos teases me, tugging on a handful of my hair lightly as he passes me when I step out of the cabin bathroom.

"Not you, too," I complain.

Carlos is 16, with deep chocolate skin and golden eyes. He's freakishly tall, and he's totally lovable. Everyone loves him.

He laughs. "Come on, girl- you have to admit, it was funny. The look on your face when you realized everyone was watching you!"

"Yeah, yeah, that's right," I grumble. "Mock a girls' first kiss."

"That was your _first kiss_?" Carlos sounds shocked. "Torie, darling, I'm gay, and I got my first way before I was fourteen."

"I'll be fifteen in five days!"

"Dear, that only makes it worse."

"You know what, Carlos?" I stamp my foot. "You can just… sh!"

"Whatever you say, Torie."

"I hate you!" I call after him.

"Love you too."

"Hey, Torie! Got any since last night?"

"Shut up, Daniel!"

* * *

By the time I've made my offering to Apollo, the whole camp knows about "Nico and that Cabin #7 chick".

Joy. I get my own nickname.

I sit at my table, grumpily sitting between Dawn and Amber, a girl about two years younger than I with strawberry-blonde pigtails and baby-blues. "Care to make fun of me, too?"

"Not really," Dawn says coolly, inspecting a blueberry. "They did it to me, too, when I started going out with Connor. It's really irritating, but give them a few weeks, and you'll be old news."

"In a few weeks, Nico'll be on his quest!"

"Sucks for you," Amber pipes in. I glare at her witheringly. She winks at me.

"I'm happy; now that they're onto you and Nico, they've stopped bugging me about the whole explosion thing."

A week ago, Amber accidentally made one of the bathrooms out by the strawberry fields explode with a burst of sunlight-heat.

"Glad to be of help to someone," I say dryly, picking up a piece of toast.

"It could be worse," Jeni says from across the table. "Nico could be coming over here to talk to you. Oh, wait, never mind, he is."

"Crap," I mutter. Nico waves cheerfully at me. I stand and walk over to him.

"Hey, Torie," he greets happily with a smile.

"Hey, Nico," I reply, a blush staining my ears and cheeks.

"How are you?" he asks, shuffling his feet a bit.

"Hassled," I sigh, tilting my head so my forehead rests on his shoulder. "My whole cabin has decided to make fun of me. Us. Whatever."

"Should we give them something else to talk about?" He sounds amused. This can't be good. I look up anyway.

"What did you have in mind?"

Nico caresses my cheekbone, tracing his finger over the sharp line on my face. I look into his eyes. He's so beautiful. Gah. I'm turning into a Bella! _Note to self: avoid this line of thought. _

"Can I kiss you?" Nico asks, smiling softly.

"You may, Mr. di Angelo," I say in a mock Victorian voice. He bursts out laughing.

"Gods, you're funny. Maybe I'll keep you," he says with a wink.

"You make me sound like a dog you have to train!" I protest, my cheeks flaming.

"Of course not!" Nico replies. "You're more like a cat! Harder to train, minds of their own… and they're cuter."

"You think I'm cute?" I say in a surprised voice.

"Cuter than a dog, anyway," he teases.

"Kiss me already, foo'."

Nico obeys.

I forget whatever was on my mind.

_Must learn to remedy this.

* * *

_

"If you could have one thing in the whole world, what would it be?"

"I… don't know. I have everything I really need. Or want. Whatever," I answer contemplatively. "I guess what I'd like is the chance to give my dad a piece of my mind. Preferably a big, painful piece. I mean, he ignored me for thirteen years, and only claimed me at all because Percy made him. Not that I can really blame him, I guess, since I'm virtually useless."

"You're not useless!"

"What would you want?" I ask, avoiding the subject.

"Bianca back," he says immediately. "But I don't think that's the world… Underworld, really."

"What was Bianca like?" I ask quietly.

He's silent at first.

"She was smart, but she didn't like to show off. She liked to read. She didn't smile a lot, because she din't have much to smile about. Um… She wore a floppy green hat a lot, mostly because she didn't like her face very much. But, gods, I loved her so much! She was like an angel… Which is kinda ironic, I guess, considering our father. She liked musicals, and I never got that- real people don't randomly burst into song in the middle of the street."

I giggle. "You obviously haven't seen my mother, then. She does that all the time!"

"Do you?" he asks, slowly coming out of his melancholy.

"Sometimes. It depends on my mood and the song."

"I'd like to hear you sing, sometime," Nico says thoughtfully. I snuggle into the crook of his arm.

"Hands touch, eyes meet  
Sudden silence, sudden heat  
Hearts leap in a giddy whirl  
He could be that boy  
But I'm not that girl:

Don't dream too far  
Don't lose sight of who you are  
Don't remember that rush of joy  
He could be that boy  
I'm not that girl

Ev'ry so often we long to steal  
To the land of what-might-have-been  
But that doesn't soften the ache we feel  
When reality sets back in

Blithe smile, lithe limb  
She who's winsome, she wins him  
Gold hair with a gentle curl  
That's the girl he chose  
And Heaven knows  
I'm not that girl:

Don't wish, don't start  
Wishing only wounds the heart  
I wasn't born for the rose and the pearl  
There's a girl I know  
He loves her so  
I'm not that girl."

* * *

**_Short, I know- I just thought it was a good ending point. This chapter is especially for _**Sarra Salmalin**_! Thanks for your reviews and help!_**

**_Love, chrissyissy  
_**


	4. I Gotta Feeling

**_Thanks to my few but well-loved reviewers and muses!_**

_Chapter IV: I Gotta Feeling_

The past two weeks have been wonderful and happy, but Nico leaves tomorrow for his quest. Leaving me behind. To the teasing and rumors. Alone.

Grr.

I want to do something special for him, but I don't know what. I mean, two campers of the opposite gender aren't allowed to be alone, and Chiron is rather picky about that. We've been walking every night after dinner, but Chiron thankful turned a blind eye to that. Maybe I could… No, wouldn't work.

Wait! If I asked Chiron or Mr. D… Mr. D would be better, though… I could… Maybe… It might work!

* * *

"So, could I?" I ask eagerly. Mr. D ponders his next move.

"Torie," Chiron says gently. "I don't-"

"Sure, why not?" Mr. D mumbles. "Can't cause too much trouble. Just don't do anything stupid, Tammie."

"It's Torie," I answer. "But thank you!"

I race out before they can change their minds. Well, before Chiron can intercept Mr. D's decision.

I have a lot of work to do.

* * *

"Nico," I whisper, taking his hand. "Come with me."

"Why?" he whines. "I'm hungry!"

"I have food."

"Okay. Where are we going?"

"You'll see, dummy."

"Hey!"

I don't respond, I just tug him towards a path- the path we took on our first walk.

"Here we are."

"It's…" Nico looks around. "…a picnic?"

"It is," I confirm. "Sit."

He obeys. "Now what?"

I roll my eyes. "What else? You eat, silly."

"Awesome!" He digs into the pizza. "Since when is pizza typical picnic foodware?"

"Since when am I the typical girlfriend?"

"Good point," he replies, stuffing in the crust. "How'd you convince Chiron to let you do this?"

"Who said I did?" Nico chokes. "Just kidding. No, Mr. D said it was okay, so…" He's still choking. "Nico? Nico!"

I go behind his and shove my fist up on his stomach. He coughs and out flies a piece of bread. Ewwwww…

"I could have lived my whole life without doing that," I complain, sitting down again.

"So could I," Nico says hoarsely.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, I think so."

"I would kiss you and make it better, but I don't know how gross you are right now…"

"That's okay. I'm still hungry."

I laugh and we dig in again.

"Ohh," Nico moans. "I ate too much!"

"You always do!" I point out, and I poke him in the stomach. He groans and grabs my hand and pulls me on top of him. We stay there for a while- seconds, minutes, hours- with my head resting on his chest and his arms wrapped around me. Then he kisses the top of my head, so I tilt my head up and kiss him on the lips.

I'm not really sure how we went from there to suddenly having his hands all over my back and my hands on his head, pulling him closer… And from there, we're suddenly standing up- I'm taking his shirt off, and my shorts seem confining. Somehow, our kisses never seem to break- it's just this circle of desire, hope, ideas, _need_. It all happened so fast… So confusing. I know it's happening, but I still want it to be that way- I don't want to stop.

Needless to say, Nico doesn't seem to, either.

Next thing I know, we're having sex.

I think I'll just stop there.

* * *

Sex- I don't know if this has ever been told to you- is actually kind of uncomfortable and weird. I mean, it's nice and all, but it kinda hurts. I never believed Mom when she told me that, but I now know that she was telling me the truth. It's an odd habit of hers.

But afterwards- the holding and whispering and love in the air- that I like. It felt so warm, so peaceful, so perfect. We got dressed and headed back to our cabins.

I go to bed. The world is kinda hazy, but it just seems natural… I fall asleep.

I wake up when it's still dark outside.

_Holy shit._

_I did not just have sex –in __Camp__Half-Blood__- with Nico di Angelo._

_No, wait- I did._

_Holy shit._

That's what goes through my head. Genius, eh?

I try to go back to sleep, but it's impossible. So I spend about five hours tossing and turning, waiting for the day to start so I can go to Nico and just talk. Then I remember that he's _leaving for his goddamn quest. _Crap.

So as soon as Amber, Jeni, Dawn, Carol, and Lania wake up and start moving around, I jump out of bed and get dressed really hurriedly. I'm walking on pins and needles, so I can at least _see_ Nico before he leaves.

I feel like he took a part of me. No, not took- like I _gave_ it to him.

It's something I'm never getting back.

"Nico!" I yell, and he turns from his bag.

"Torie!" he replies, a huge grin on his face. I propel myself into his arms and bury my face into his warm chest.

"Don't go," I say in a muffled voice.

"Torie," he says softly. "I should probably tell you what the quest prophecy was." I lift my head in confusion. He takes a deep breath.

"You leave to find, and find you will

A heart you leave behind, but is yours still

Fate has plans for you and her

Leave them now, and finish this quest yours

Coming back will be a surprise

To make a choice that is not altogether wise."

"So you're coming back?" I say quietly.

"That's the plan," he says with a small laugh.

"Okay. So long as you come back."

"I love you," he says, and I look at him with big eyes.

"Really?" I squeak.

"I think so."

"Then… I think I love you, too. I think," I clarify with a smile.

"I gotta go now. Torie, I don't have anything to leave behind with you except… Oh, gods, this'll sound cheesy."

"I like cheese."

"I'll leave you my heart, then."

I giggle. "You're right, it is cheesy. But I like it."

We share a quick kiss and he leaves me.

I really hope this doesn't become regular.

But you know what? Things could get worse.

* * *

In fact, they do.

* * *

_**I forgot to tell you at the end of the last chapter- the song Torie sung was "I'm Not That Girl" from Wicked. All the chapter titles are the titles of songs... This one is that song from the Black-Eyed Peas.**_

_**Peace out, and plot guesses are welcome!  
**_


	5. Glass

_Chapter V: Glass_

"Life sucks." I totally agree with that saying.

"When it rains, it pours." I agree with that one, too.

"Live by the sword, die by the sword." Sometimes I like that one, but sometimes not.

"The journey of a thousand miles must begin with a single step." I like this one.

"Sensible people control their temper; they earn respect by overlooking wrongs." I wish I could apply this one to myself… I have a picky temper.

"Learn from your mistakes." Let's hope.

* * *

"Torie?" Amber peeks her head into the room, where I'm making my bed. "Chiron wants to talk to you. He's says it's important."

"'Kay," I answer, flattening the blankets and walking towards the doorway. "Thanks, Amber."

_What if he found out about last week?_ A panic flashes through me. _Oh gods, I hope he didn't… what if he kicks me out of camp? Can he do that? Would anyone care? Would Nico care?_

These thoughts continue as I search for Chiron in the Big House. "Chiron?"

"Yes, Torie. It is I."

"You asked for me?" I say nervously. He smiles sadly.

"Yes. You might want to sit down."

"Why? What's wrong?" This seems like a bigger deal than what I expected. "Chiron?"

"Please sit." I sit. "We received some news today… it's not good. Your mother…"

"What?" I ask, my heart stopping. _Oh, gods._

"Well…" Chiron clears his throat. "She was crossing the street… the bus driver didn't see her. She's not expected to survive."

His words pound through my head: _She's not expected to survive. She's not expected to survive. She's not expected to survive. SHE'S NOT EXPECTED TO SURVIVE._

"Oh, gods…" I hear my voice as though from very far away. "Oh gods."

"Torie, I'm so sorry…" His voice sounds far away, too. "Torie?"

I can't feel my body. I can't hear my heart. I can't see the world. All I know is this gripping, unending _grief_. It's pain unlike anything I've ever known. My world has ended.

Mom is dying.

* * *

"Mom?" I say, gently taking her colorless hand. All her hair has been shaved away so that they could try to meld her skull back together. Tubes and needles stick out of her like she's a pincushion.

Her beautiful blue eyes don't open. The machines keep up their steady beeping.

"Momma," I whisper, sitting down in one of the uncomfortable hospital chairs. "Mommy?"

I begin to cry again.

"Oh, Mommy," I say, unable to see for the tears in my eyes. All I see are colors and shapes. "Mommy, come back. I need you, Mommy. I have so much I need to tell you. I have so much I need you for. I need to tell you things. I need your advice. Mommy, I need you so badly! Please come back. Please come back. Please, Momma…" My eyes are floodgates, the entrance to never-ending pools of water.

I have never known pain like this.

A machine blares angrily at me. "Stop!" I scream at it. "Stop!"

A hand rests on my arm. "Sweetheart, let go. She's gone."

I look down at the clay replica of my mother. _She's gone. She's not coming back._

"No!" I screech. "No! Mommy! Mom! MOM!"

"Sweetie, she's not there any more. You need to let her go."

I'm still holding my mother's hand. I don't want to let go. I don't want to leave her.

_I want her back._

"I want my Mommy," I whimper, and I let the nurse take me away.

* * *

"Mary Louise O'Reilly was a wonderful woman," my mom's best friend, Angela, sniffles. "She was so smart. When I met her, the first thing she said to me was, 'Are you alright? You divided that wrong.' And she said it so naturally! It was like she expected everyone knew what she knew! She was so like a child in so many ways; she was so innocent, so untouched by what was around her. Almost everyone who met her loved her… I don't of anyone who didn't like her, at least. But she left us behind a treasure, a girl so different from her mother but so alike at the same time. She left us Torie. Torie, darling, do you want to say something?"

"Yes," I whisper, then raise my voice. "Yeah." I walk up to the podium. "My mom was…" My throat closes in on itself. "She was…" How can I describe her? Mom was moonlight and walks on the beach filled with random facts about the sea. Mom was a choir of angels singing ACDC. Mom was everything she needed to be, everything I wanted her to be. "Mom was perfect," I manage, and then Angela has to lead me away because I'm crying so hard.

I wish she could be here.

There's no way my life could be worse.

* * *

I stand corrected. The pregnancy test in my hand proves it.

Oh, gods.

How can I have a kid without Mom to help me?

How can I have a kid _at all_?

How can I even live without Mom to help?

I don't know what to do.

Oh, gods.

I _cannot_ be pregnant with Nico di Angelo's child at fudging _fifteen. _I just can't.

"Torie?" Angela knocks on the door. "You've been in there for a while."

"Yeah," I say quietly. "I'm…"

"You're what? Sick?"

"No, I mean, yes, I mean…" I stop and sigh. "I'm pregnant."

Silence.

The door opens.

"Oh, Torie," Angela whispers. "I'm sorry. You really don't need this now, huh?"

"Not really," I sniff.

She sits next to me on the tile of her bathroom floor. "Do you know who the father is?"

"Yeah," I say quietly. "A guy at camp. My boyfriend, I guess."

"You guess?" Angela laughs a little, but sadly.

"I just don't really think of us that way, y'know?"

"Oh. Well. That makes sense, then."

Silence.

"What are you gonna do?"

"Well, I was thinking… The camp has a year-round option. I know a few kids who live there a year. Georgina does, and Nico- my boyfriend- does usually, too."

"Usually?" Angela cocks an eyebrow.

"Well, sometimes he stays with his dad."

"Why wouldn't he all year?" Angela asks with a giggle.

"His dad has a really time-consuming job, and it's kinda dangerous," I say quickly. Angela stares at me.

"Seriously?"

"Seriously." And it's not like I'm lying or anything; it's true.

"Do you really want that?" she asks me quietly.

"I think it would be best. I mean, my mom said it was okay in her will… why the Hades did she have a will, anyway? I mean, she's only 32!"

"It seemed logical to her to have an 'emergency plan'," Angela replies, and we both burst out laughing.

"My mom, the Vulcan on crack…"

It's a while before we can stop our laughter.

* * *

I'm back at Camp Half-Blood. But there's no time to relax. I need to talk to Chiron.

"Chiron?" I say quietly. "Can I talk to you?"

"Of course, Torie."

"In private?"

"If that is what you wish."

We walk to a more secluded area than the archery-area.

"Now, what was it you wanted to tell me about?"

"First of all, can I stay here all year from now on, since my mom is dead?"

"Of course, Torie. You'll always be welcome here," Chiron answers honestly.

"Okay." I take a deep breath. "Now that we know that, I have something that's actually very important to tell you."

"Yes?" Chiron looks curious.

"I'm pregnant."

The look on his face makes me want to shrivel up and die.

_I really, really hate my life._

Life sucks.

When it rains, it pours.

Live by the sword, die by the sword.

The journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.

Sensible people control their temper; they earn respect by overlooking wrongs.

Learn from your mistakes.

_I sincerely hope so._


	6. It's Only Life

_Chapter VI: It's Only Life_

**Nico's POV**

I'm so tired.

I haven't slept in a real bed in almost four months, I almost failed my quest, and we only managed to save a handful of satyrs.

We're almost back at Camp Half-Blood, which I am so grateful for. Taylor broke her arm, so she needs it get set better than Thomas taping a stick to it. One of the satyrs, a guy called Ailin, doesn't look so good.

We arrive at the camp, not a minute too soon. Taylor rushes off to get treated, and Thomas helps Ailin to get help, too.

I'm just about to go to the Hades cabin and get cleaned up, since I'm covered in sweat and blood and gods know what else, when Annabeth stands firmly in way, looking generally pissed off.

"Nico di Angelo," she says in low, dangerous voice. "I cannot BELIEVE you."

"Why?" I'm actually very confused. Percy steps next to Annabeth, shaking his head sadly.

"Nico, I never thought I would have to say this, but I'm disappointed in you. Very disappointed."

"What did I do?!" I ask in confusion. It takes a lot for Percy to be truly disappointed in you.

"You know what you did," Annabeth nearly snarls. Percy places a hand on her arm.

"No, I don't!" I protest.

"YES, YOU DO!" Annabeth explodes. "HOW COULD YOU?!"

"What the Hades did I do?!" I ask Percy frantically.

Silently, he points at Torie. She's standing by herself, looking at the ground, arms crossed. I walk over to her quickly. _How did they find out…?_

"Torie?" I ask apprehensively. "What's wrong?"

"You remember the picnic?"

"Of course I do!" I laugh. "How could I forget?"

Torie bites her upper lip.

"What is it?" I urge.

"I'm pregnant," she whispers.

I swear my heart stops.

"Oh, gods."

"And my mom died."

"Oh, gods."

"I'm going to live all year here."

"Oh, effing gods."

"CAN'T YOU SAY ANYTHING ELSE?" Torie screams. "I NEED COMFORT!"

I'm very taken aback. "Torie, are you okay?"

She clears her throat. "Sorry. I've just… been on edge lately. I'm fine. I think."

"If you say so," I say nervously.

Torie sighs. "I don't really know what to do. I mean… this wasn't exactly my plan, y'know?"

"Do I ever."

"You're gonna be part of my kids' life, you know," she says fiercely, her wonderful eyes glaring at me a little. "I don't care what else you do, but you _will_ be my kids dad."

"Our kid," I correct, a little irritated. "It's OUR kid. Not just yours." Torie smiles.

"Good."

* * *

"What about names?" Torie says suddenly, sipping her banana-and-kiwi smoothie. "I like the name Lewis. Or Laurel."

"Maybe Bianca?" I say quietly. Torie considers.

"I like that. Or Brian, if it's a boy."

"Really?" My heart feels like it warms up. "You'd name our baby after my sister?"

Torie shrugs. "You love her. That's important. Plus I like the name," she says with a smile.

I smile back. "So, Bianca or Brian?"

"Bianca or Brian," she confirms.

I lean to kiss her, but Torie puts her hand on my chest.

"Can we… Can we slow down?" she asks a little sheepishly. "Moving fast is why I'm… y'know… pregnant in the first place."

"Okay," I concede, but I feel a little put down at the thought. It makes me sad; even as we're talking names, she wishes she wasn't going to have our baby.

"Did you know that, statistically, we're not going to make it as a couple? That, statistically, I will probably be raising Bianca-or-Brian by myself?" Torie says quietly, placing her hands on her baby-bump. Our baby is at 15 weeks now.

I try to take her hand, but she slips it away. "Torie, we don't have listen to those statistics. You will not being raising our kid by yourself, I swear. Unless I end up decapitated or something. And even then, I'll probably haunt you. Okay?"

The corners of Torie's mouth peek up. "Okay. I can live with that."

"While we're waiting for decapitation, can I kiss you?" Torie looks away.

"I don't think so… I'm just… not ready," she says helplessly.

_Darn._

* * *

"See that?" the lady doctor points at the screen filled with gray and black blobs.

"No," Torie says bluntly. I stifle a chuckle.

"Yeah, I think so," I volunteer. Torie gives me a dirty look.

"Well, that proves something I imagine you've been waiting anxiously for," the doctor says with a smile, adjusting the ultrasound wand.

"Which is…?" Torie asks with a raised eyebrow. She doesn't like this doctor much, I can tell.

"The sex of your baby!" she trills.

Torie stares at her. "Lady, I don't want to be pregnant. I'm fifteen and my boyfriend is 16. My mom is dead and my dad has never so much as looked at me. I'm anxious about a lot of things, but the color of the blanket I'll be getting in February is not one of them."

I burst out laughing. Both of them gives me looks.

"I'm sorry," I snort. "It's just the way you put that."

"Well, whatever," Torie snaps. "So?"

"So…?" the doctor says in confusion.

"What's the sex?!" Torie demands, her face going a bit red.

"Um," the doctor clears her throat. "It's a boy."

"Well, then." Torie smiles, satisfied. "It looks like we're having a Brian," she tells me.

My heart feels like it warms. _Brian._

"What about a middle name?" I ask.

"Well… I'm pretty Irish, and I like the name Kelly… So I was thinking Brian Kelly di Angelo?" she offers, tilting her head in a very cute way.

"I like it," I decide. "Wait. Di Angelo?"

"Well, duh," Torie giggles. "You _are_ his dad."

"Thank you," I whisper. Torie considers this.

"I think you can kiss me now."

I oblige her. She's so cute sometimes.

"I like kissing," Torie says simply once I pull my face away.

"I'll just… go get your paperwork," the doctor stammers, edging out of the room.

"You do that," Torie twitches.

"You really don't like her, huh?" I laugh, sitting again.

"No, not really. She's too preppy and energetic. If I have to be tired all the time, so does everyone else," Torie grumbles. "Gods! I swear, I can't ever sleep at night, and it's all I can seem to manage during the day."

"That sucks," I sympathize.

"Whatever. Kiss me again."

I laugh and we kiss.

"Um…" the doctor is the doorway. "We do have a waiting list…"

"Oh, shut up," Torie comments happily.

* * *

_**Thanx to all my reviewers and so on! I like the reviews best, as they make me feel very special! Please keep my mood up... Thanx again.**_

_**Love, chrissyissy**_


	7. That's What You Get

_Chapter VII: That's What You Get_

**Torie's POV**

I'm huge.

I swear, I'm as big as a house. I hate it. And that's not all- one second, I'm freezing, and the next I'm roasting. It drives everyone nuts, especially me. And don't even get me started on the hormones. Ugh, _everyone_ has gotten a taste of my mad mood swings- even Clarisse. She had to pat me on the back while I cried. And let me tell you- hanging around a person after you've done that? _Awkward._ Then again, once you get over that, you can do anything. I mean, you've already gone through the worst. What else can go wrong?

For instance, last week I blew up at Annabeth. Frankly, she looked shocked. I mean, I'd barely pieced together two words in front of her before, and then I couldn't stop yelling obscenities at her. But by far the sweetest reaction to my emotions has to be Tyson. He came by for a visit, around the same time Annabeth did, and I started bawling my eyes out because I couldn't fit in Nico's sweatshirt. He gave me a big hug and gave me _his_ sweatshirt. I started crying even harder, and then Tyson looked at me with his big brown eye and said, "Can I feel your tummy? I want to feel Brian."

Gods, the look on his face was so moving, even Hades would have felt a twinge in his heart.

"He'll be a happy baby?" Tyson asked, looking worried. "Not sick?"

"I really hope he'll be healthy and happy," I sighed at the time, and then I gasped. "Look, Tyson! Do you see his foot?"

He considered it. "It looks like an alien!"

I went from crying to laughing. Tyson is so sweet.

But I digress. (I love that word. _Dih-grehss._)

So now I have a blue sweatshirt with an eye on it that reads, "Cyclops Workhouse."

It's very warm, and it smells like the sea, even though I've washed it twice now. (Once I puked on it, and the other time it was just dirty from wear.)

I think I've gotten more attached to Brian as he gets bigger. I mean, abortion was _never_ an option. It's life, whether or not there's a heartbeat added. If there's potential, there's life. That's my opinion, anyway. But I still didn't really want a kid. That's all Brian was to me at first- a kid that I didn't want. But now? Now he's my baby. MY baby. And Nico's, but you get my drift. I'm not giving Brian up for anything- he's _mine_.

I get weird dreams now, too, though. I'll wake up in the morning crying because I dreamed that I was never pregnant. Brian is a part of my life now, and he always will be. _Nothing_ can take him away from me. I'd sooner die a slow and painful death than lose him, and I have a low tolerance for pain.

Another weird dream is this one wear Nico is missing and Brian is already born but I can't see his face, and someone keeps trying to kill Annabeth. It's weird, and it doesn't really have any rhyme or reason to it. It's discombobulated and odd, but I get it at least twice a week, more and more as my due date looms closer.

I've decided to have Brian at camp, in the infirmary. Nico, Dawn, and Annabeth are gonna be there. Dawn will deliver Brian, and Nico'll be there for moral support, and Annabeth is there for Nico's moral support because I don't want any other guy seeing me like that, i.e. Percy, other than Nico, and if I'm going through pain because of him, he's gonna see it.

It's only three weeks and four days until my due date. Not that I'm counting or anything.

* * *

Two weeks and five days.

Gods. This takes _forever_.

* * *

It's two weeks to the day.

It hurts like Hades.

No more to say.

* * *

"If walk, Torie, it would speed up the transition," Dawn says wearily.

"Um, walking? Painful at this point," I snap.

"It would help-" Dawn begins.

"Yeah, yeah," I grumble. I stand up, wobblingly. "Nico, help," I growl.

"With what?" he asks apprehensively.

"Balance," I snap. "Need it."

"Okay," he mutters, standing and stretching.

"Hurry."

"Yeah, yeah," he mocks, striding over and taking my waist. "Helping?"

"Yes," I say through gritted teeth.

"What's wrong?" Annabeth asks, looking as though she fears the answer.

"Pain," I grunt. "Contraction. Ow."

"Oh," she replies, looking almost relieved.

"Walking?" Dawn says pointedly. Nico nudges me into movement.

"Ow. Ow. Ow."

"Does it really hurt that bad?" Dawn queries, leaning back.

"Yes. Yes. Yes. Ow. _Ow_."

It takes effing _hours_.

"Okay, Torie, you can lie down on the bed now," Dawn says wearily.

"Oh, thanks the gods," I moan, flopping down gingerly. Nico nods in agreement.

"How long does this take?" he asks desperately.

"It varies," Dawn replies. "It can take minutes, but it can take days."

"Oh, gods, not days," I whine. "This is miserable enough already!"

"Tell me about it," Annabeth mutters.

"You're not the one who has to shove a kid the size of a watermelon out a hole the size of a grape!"

"It's less grapelike now," Dawn assures me.

"Oh, yes, that's so comforting," I mumble sarcastically.

It takes forever and a day. I hate this.

"I will never go through this _again_," I groan, killing Nico's hand.

"Don't worry," Nico says fervently. "I don't want to, either."

"Good," Annabeth whimpers, her face covered. "I don't want to do this again!"

"Push now," Dawn says urgently.

"!"

"Good job," Dawn says encouragingly. "Now… Again!"

"!"

"You make interesting noises," Nico comments.

"Shut !"

"Okay, excellent," Dawn murmurs. "And… oh!"

"Oh good or oh bad?" I pant.

"Good! Very good!" Dawn chirps. "I see the crown!"

"Hear that?" Nico nudges me. "Our kid is royalty!"

"It means the top of the head, Nico," Annabeth rolls her eyes.

Nico frowns. "I know that. I was just trying to make Torie laugh."

"Fail," I gasp. "Epic fail."

"Okay… Push!"

"!"

"The head is out!" Dawn sings. "And push again!"

"Hhhhhhhhhhhh!" I breathe in sharply.

"And… one more, I think!"

"I don't know if I can," I whimper.

"Come on, Torie," Nico pleads. "It's almost over."

"Now!" Dawn demands.

I push one last time, and I feel this great release, and Brian starts to wail. Suddenly, I'm so, so tired. Everyone's talking and rushing around, but I just kind of close my eyes.

"You need to push again," I hear.

My eyes snap open.

"Whaat?" I demand. "He's out! I'm done!"

"We need to deliver the placenta," Dawn replies.

"Can't I hold Brian first?" I whine. Dawn smiles.

"Of course! We were just waiting for you to ask."

I hold out my arms.

_He's clean, _I note. _And- oh!_

I feel this… connection. It's so strong. It's like this giant cord has attached my heart to Brian's. He's so beautiful and wonderful and _alive_! And he's _mine_, and mine alone. Well, and Nico's, but that's beside the point.

He's got red, red, red skin, but I think that fades after a while, and his forehead and eyes are all squinched up. He's so tiny, though- it's hard to believe he took up so much of my body. He has hair, too- dark and thin and barely there at all. But still, he's so _amazing_ and _beautiful_. Even when I felt his little butterfly-bubble touch from within, it was never this strong… I know now that I could never let him go. He's forever mine.

But just as I start to let his wet, warm shape settle into my arms and stomach, Dawn touches my arm.

"Placenta," she reminds me. I stare up at her through watery eyes.

"Please?"

"No," Dawn says gently. "Placenta."

"Okay," I mutter. "Okay. Nico?"

With awe in his eyes, Nico takes our son.

_Brian.

* * *

**Like? Dislike? Let me know!!!**_


	8. Feels Like Home

_Chapter IIX: Feels Like Home_

"Who's a beautiful baby?" Amber cooes. "Who's a beautiful boy?" She taps Brian's nose. "You are! Yes, you are!"

"How can you say that?" Lania snaps, groaning as she sits up in bed. "After last night?"

Amber snuggles Brian closer to her chest. "Because he can't help it if he's hungry! He can't help it if he needs a diaper change! He's just a baby! A beautiful, beautiful baby."

"I thought he did pretty well," Dawn yawns. "It could have been worse."

"You don't have sore boobs," I moan. "How can something without teeth hurt so much?"

"It's natural," Dawn soothes. "After a while, your nipples with toughen up and you'll barely feel it."

"Yeah, you say that now," I mumble. "Wait 'til you have your own little beasty."

"He doesn't mean to hurt you," Amber protests. "Do you, Bri-an? Huh, Brian?"

Brian squeaks out a cry.

"Uh-oh," Amber says. "Do you want Mama, Brian? Here you go."

"Thanks," I mutter, taking my week-old son. "Maybe I should move to another cabin or something," I suggest. "So you guys can get your rest and all."

"No!" Amber protests. "I like having Brian here!"

Dawn smiles apologetically at her. "I think that might be best. No one likes Lania cranky and sleepless, and I think that Brian would benefit more from a closed environment."

"What does that even mean?" Amber asks desperately, looking at Brian sadly.

"It means that living in a cabin with two other girls besides his mother might have a negative impact on his growth," Lania snapped, shoving her legs into her jeans.

"Where do you learn this stuff?" Amber cried in despair.

"I read psychology books," Lania shrugged.

"And I borrow my mom's notebooks with notes of average, subaverage, and unique human behaviors," Dawn replies bashfully. "It's her hobby."

I look at Dawn in amazement. "How on earth did you turn out even moderately normal?"

She blushes.

"So I'll take it up with Chiron," I decide. "Anyone want to help?"

Amber glared cutely. "I will not support this idea!"

Lania shook her head fervently. "No way, chica."

I looked at Dawn. She shrugged helplessly. "I'm busy today."

I sigh dramatically, then check Brian's diaper. "I guess I'll just ask Nico, then."

* * *

"Nico?" I knock nervously on his door. He swings it open.

Shirtless.

I melt a little.

"Yeah?" he asks, rubbing his hair with a black towel.

All he's wearing are tight black jeans and his camp necklace.

"Um," I manage.

He's got really nice abs. But I already knew that…

"Um," I repeat, shaking my head. "I need to ask Chiron if I can move out of Cabin #7 so Lania, Dawn, and Amber can get their sleep."

"And…?" He raises an eyebrow.

"I don't want to ask alone," I say, bobbing my arms a bit for Brian. Nico holds out his arms wordless. Happily, I pass Brian off- I've been holding him for about an hour.

"So you want me to be with you," Nico says quietly.

"That'd be nice," I say, relieved.

"Okay," Nico says easily. "Let's go now."

With that, he strides across the grounds, our kid still tucked gently into the crooks of his arms.

"Wait, what?" I jog to catch up to him. "What, now?"

"Sure, why not," Nico shrugs, careful to not disturb Brian.

"Because I need to build up bravery!" I hiss.

"Better to do it now, while I'm willing," he points out.

"Whatever." I refuse to admit he is right.

"Hey, Chiron!" Nico calls out to the archery field.

"Yes, Nico?" The centaur trots over.

"Torie has something she would like to ask of you," he replies jovially.

"Thanks," I say dryly. "Could I move out of cabin #7? Dawn, Amber, and Lania would like more rest and fewer disturbances in the night."

"What's up?" Annabeth jogs over, her hair tangled from extracting a stray arrow from a particularly stubborn thornbush.

"Torie would like to move out of cabin #7," Chiron explains, delicately shifting his hooves. "I'm trying to think of another place she could stay."

"Why does she want to move?" Annabeth asks curiously.

"The girls are giving her a hard about Brian crying," Nico replies.

"They are not!" I protest. "Well, Lania maybe, but everyone else was very nice about it!"

"Nice about what?" Percy asks, his black hair tousled. Maybe Annabeth wasn't mussed up from a bush… I stifle a giggle. _Now is not the time,_ I reprimand myself.

"Asking if she could bunk someplace else," Nico answers.

"If you please, I can talk for myself!" I shout. Everyone stares at me, waiting. "Does anyone know where I could stay?"

"You could stay in my cabin," Nico offers.

"_No_," Chiron, Annabeth, and Percy say firmly.

"Well, where else is there?" I ask.

Chiron thinks. "Well, there's always the Big House," he says finally. I shudder slightly. "You could always take the room next to Rachel's."

"I could live with that," I say cautiously. "What's the catch?"

"I have to pass it by Mr. D," is Chiron's answer.

"Oh," I say in a small voice. "Can you ask for me?" Chiron laughs.

"Yes, I can."

"Oh, thank the gods," I mutter.

* * *

"Wow," I manage. "Big room."

Rachel laughs, throwing back her head. "Yeah, that's what I said when they showed me my room- it's _huge_, and I live in a mansion."

"By the way," Nico questions, "are you going to college this coming semester?"

Rachel nods. "I'm going to get a degree in ancient civilizations and art."

This is a surprise to no one; as a room-warming gift, Rachel gave me a painting of Apollo. It's nice, actually- the idea that my father will be watching me and Brian. It kind of implies he cares. Which, if the past in any indication, he doesn't. But whatever.

The room is pretty darn big- _and _I have a window seat with shutter windows. It's always been kinda my dream to have a window like that.

The walls are a light, sunny orange with golden trim, and the queen-size bedframe is made from a bronze-y metal, clothed in crimson cloth. The cradle next to the bed is made of woven bronze strips, the cloth inside the same wine-color as my bed's clothes. The floor is a rich, dark red wood, with bright gold carpets by the bed, window, and around the changing table. Everything fits just right, and it's all so beautiful.

It's basically my dream room.

Minus, y'know, the baby stuff. But I can totally live with that. Since it means Brian will be with me in the _effing awesome room_.

"Nice bed," Nico says, and Rachel and I whack him at the same time.

"No," I say sternly. "Speaking of which, I think…" I swallow. I really don't want to do this. "We need to talk."

"Okay," Nico agrees cheerily.

I tilt my head at Rachel, an apologetic smile on my face. She takes the hint and slips out. I shift Brian in my arms, and he begins to cry.

"Oh, no, darlin'," I mutter, moving to the changing table.

"Here-" Nico intercepts. "Let me." Expertly, he checks our sons' diaper.

I so don't want to do this.

"Nico," I sigh, and a small amounts of water begin to swell in my eyes. Small amounts only, though. He swings around, bouncing my dark-haired child. "I think that it might be smarter for us to- well, y'know- break up."

My words stretch out like a cavern between us, creating a river so deep, I can't cross over again. His face- oh, gods, if I never see that face again, I will be totally fine.

"Why?" His words rip from a twisted mouth, his eyes screwed up as he stops jiggling his arms.

"Well-" I begin to stumble over my painful words, torn from my chest as if an invisible crowbar is yanking out my ribs, one by one. "-I th-think that we got into this from being together. A-and I'm not really read-ready to keep up a girlfriend-boyfriend re-relationship plus raising Brian… I-I just th-think it would be better for us… i-if we were just f-friends?" I end with that tremulous question.

Nico droops. There's no other word for it- he slopes his shoulders and his neck like a wet noodle drawn from the pot. "Yeah. I guess I've known that all along. I just didn't want to face it."

With large strides across my cavernous room, he tenderly places Brian in his cradle, touching a gentle kiss to his forehead.

Ice builds around my heart like a freezing prison.

"You'll be back tomorrow?"

Nico pauses in the broad doorway.

"Yeah."


	9. Cold Shoulder

_Chapter IX: Cold Shoulder_

After he leaves, I collapse on my new, giant bed and christen it with my tears. I didn't want to break up. I didn't want to end my relationship with Nico. I still want kisses from him. I still have a crush on him. But it was _wise_, and it made sense. Going out is what made Brian in the first place, and as much as I love him, I would still rather not be a 15-year-old mother. So why does my chest feel like it's cracking apart?

Oh, right. Because I love him. Still and always.

I doubt it can get any worse.

* * *

I sit down nervously at the Apollo table, kind of curious to see whether or not I'm still supposed to sit here, or if I'm supposed to sit with Rachel and Mr. D and Chiron.

Dawn nods at me, Amber blinks, and Lania blatantly ignores me.

Seems as if nothing has changed here, at least.

"Why weren't you at lunch?" Amber queries, spooning in her soup.

"Wasn't hungry," I lie, not willing to tell them how I didn't want everyone to see my pale, salty-streaked face.

Lania gives me a look that says, _Yeah, right_, bur she doesn't push it. You can always count on her for that.

"Oh," Amber says, frowning. "I thought it was because you broke up with Nico."

This makes me promptly choke on my fries.

"What, you thought everyone didn't know?" Lania says sarcastically.

"Yeah, well, I kinda hoped everyone would keep their snotty little noses out of my business," I snap. "How did they know, anyway?"

"You didn't come to lunch," Dawn replies simply. "You always come to lunch, even if you don't eat. This is most likely a psychological fear of false gossip being spread about you throughout a camp of basically family members."

"Founded, probably, from the time that Jessica missed breakfast and the whole camp decided she was anorexic, effectively ruining her previously positive reputation and sending Chiron to talk to her about possible bad eating habits," Lania adds, blowing on her shepherd's pie.

"Gyah!" I shout. "Enough with the psychoanalysis!"

"Well, you asked," Amber points out.

"Whatever," I sigh. "Can I mourn my break-up in peace?"

"No," they all chorus.

"Hon, we're sisters," Dawn replies gently. "We _have_ to bug you about this. It's genetic. 'Kay?"

"No," I grumble. "It's not okay. It will never _be_ okay. Get it?"

My half-sisters sigh and turn back to their food.

Great. I've estranged three more people from me. Single-handedly. Again.

Effing fantastic.

"So, why'd you break up with the Death-Man?" Con asks me, sitting next to me.

I start crying. I don't mean to, but it just _happens_. Soon I'm gulping for air, and Con has his arm around me.

"Hey, Tor, it's okay. D'ya want me to beat him up?"

"N-no," I sob. "_I_ broke up with _him_. I d-didn't w-want to, b-but I had to!"

"Wait, who told you that?" Con demands, grabbing my shoulders.

"N-no one," I whimper, my chest caving in and out with my attempts at breathing. "I j-just h-h-had to. I-I d-don't want t-to hurt anymore, Con… make it go away…"

I bury my face in his sweatshirt. My dark-haired sibling just embraces me, whispering comforts in my ears.

"It'll be fine, Torie. It'll be fine."

* * *

"Hey, Torie," Annabeth greets, swinging her head in my room, followed by the rest of her. "I was just talking to Rachel. You okay?"

"Not really," I say blandly, staring blankly at Rachel's painting of her patron and my father. In it, his hair is sandy-blonde with a bare reddish hint, and his eyes are a golden-hazel that glow with childish joy. His freckles match mine, as does his tan skin and grin. But my nose, my eyes, my forehead- they belong to my mother. My fucking _dead_ mother. And he'll never die. He'll keep going, he'll keep hooking up with random girls, keep claiming them only because he has to. Or maybe he'll claim them because he wants to, unlike with me- I know he never wanted me. I can't do anything. My archery, aim, fighting, all of it is an epic fail. I can't even be a good girlfriend; I have to get pregnant and break my own heart. No wonder he didn't want me.

What's to want?

I've never liked the way I looked. My nose, so pretty on Mom, is too big for my face. My eyes, I've been told, are so wide, I look like a crack-addict. My mouth is too wide, and my forehead is too big. My hair can't decide if it's blonde or red or brown- it has to be all of them. And straight? I hate my straight hair. It can't keep curls in it to save a god. Looking in the mirror is looking at the very face I hate the most.

What's not to hate?

"Hey, hey," Annabeth says gently, stepping into my room, and I realize I'm crying again. "What's the matter?"

"I still-" I gulp. "I still want to be with him. But I can't."

Annabeth sits next me quietly. "Sometimes it's just not meant to be. And, hey, time heals all hurts, right?" She nudges my side with her elbow. "I should know."

"Right," I say quietly. "Luke, huh?"

"My first crush," she says with a crooked grin. "My brother, though, when it came down to it."

"I don't even know what Nico is to me anymore," I whisper. Annabeth awkwardly hugs me for a second.

"He's your first boyfriend. He's your first kiss. He's the father of your child. He'll always be in your heart, y'know," she adds. "It's not like that kind of love can just… go away. It'll linger."

"Great," I groan. "One more thing to look forward to. Constant heartache."

"Could be worse," Annabeth points out.

"Really?" I snort. "How?"

"Brian could wake up loudly," she says.

"Shh!" I hiss. "Don't jinx me!"

She laughs.

For a minute, we sit in silence.

"How is he?" I ask, trepidation in my gut.

"He's… hurting," Annabeth admits. "He's a little angry, too, I think. He misses being around you."

"He said he'd come back," I mutter. "But he hasn't."

"Give him time," Annabeth urges. "Would you go back to him right away?"

"I guess not," I realize. "But… Brian."

Speaking of which, a wail reaches to my heart from his cradle. "Crap," I mutter. "Just a sec." I stand and walk across the room to hold my son. I know what he wants: food. Without thinking, I sit back down and open my button-up blouse. Annabeth jumps away, her face white from shock. "Oh, sorry!"

"It's okay," Annabeth says, color returning to her cheeks and lips.

"I just have to feed him," I explain. I place my son to my breast, and, with a quieting cry, he latches on. "There."

"Doesn't it hurt?" Annabeth queries, her brow furrowed.

"Like Hades," I reply. "Supposedly, though, it gets better."

"Knock, knock?" says a male voice from the door. "Annabeth, what are you doing here?!"

"Visiting Torie!" she replies defensively. "Since when is that illegal?"

It's Nico.

I am completely, totally, and unbelievably unready.


	10. I'm A Loser

**Thank you so much to everyone! A special thank you to that someone who asked me especially to write more, even during my huge writers' block! YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE! **

**Before I go any further, I MUST apologize for my lengthy disappearance and the short chapter. You will be relieved to know, however, that the next chapter is almost halfway done!**

**Read, review, regurgitate your favorite lines! I like to know what you like.**

**Also, final word: guess which band sung the song that this chapter is titled? Virtual Brian-smiles to the first person to guess correctly!  
**

_Chapter X: I'm A Loser_

"Nico, don't freak," says Percy's voice from around the corner. He turns and is about to enter my room when he sees my, um, activity. In other words, breastfeeding. "Oh. Um. Uh."

"Percy, walk away," Annabeth orders easily.

"Why doesn't Nico have to?" Percy asks, turning away from me.

"Because he's already seen it," I answer.

Awkward silence.

"I'll, um, just… go," Percy stammers.

"Good idea," Annabeth replies with a small snort-scoff. "I think I'll join you in that." She stands up, ready to leave, but I catch her wrist and give her a pleading look.

"Please don't leave me," I beg in a whisper. She smiles apologetically.

"You have to face him alone sometime, Torie. Why not now?"

"'Cause I'm not ready!" I whisper in a heated frenzy. My eyes probably look fevered. Annabeth gives me her patented 'I Really Think This Is for the Best' look. Then she leaves me. Alone with Nico.

Panic sets in.

"Um, h-hi! How are y-you, N-N-Nico?"

He sighs and plops down in my red-and-gold easy chair, not taking Annabeth's vacated seat next to me on the loveseat. I notice this, and my hearts gives a _pang_. It's hard to believe Nico doesn't hear that.

"Stop stressing, Torie," he says heavily, looking at me with hooded eyes.

Is it wrong that I'm turned on by that?

Yes. Yes, it is.

"I mean, it's not like I've changed since we-" he pauses, and looks away for a second. "-broke up. Much, anyway," Nico ends with a small sarcastic smirk.

I give a small nervous giggle. "Yeah, 'cause so much can happen in twenty-four hours," I mutter. Nico looks at me straight-on.

"Yeah, it can," he says quietly.

Silence prevails. _Awkward_ silence, at that.

"I'm sorry!" I burst out. "I still like you and I want to be friends but this is so hard and I'm so confused and I don't want to get pregnant again and even though I love Brian I still wish I could have waited to have him and that's horrible and I shouldn't be a mother, that's terrible of me and how could I say that? I'm so cruel! I don't deserve Brian or you or friends or the camp and I miss my mom but I didn't deserve her, either and why can't I just- why are you laughing?"

Nico stops. "I'm sorry, you just- you were rambling. It's cute when you do that."

_Cute._ The word rings between us.

_Does he still like me?_

"I- I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that."

"No, it's okay," I mutter, lost in my vague thoughts. "I mean, I still like _you_."

"No, it's not that," he replies hastily.

"Oh." I look down. Is it supposed to hurt like that?

Probably.

"I mean-" Nico stops. "I like you, but I don't _like_ you. Not anymore."

"When did you stop?" I whisper, keeping my eyes down. Oblivious, Brian continues to suckle at my breast, which, by the way, are now frickin' huge and I have to wear a special bra for nursing mothers. It itches.

"I don't know," he replies, his mouth twitching on one side. _Is this really that funny to him?_ "I guess it was gradual."

"Oh," I mutter again. "So you haven't liked me for a while."

It's not really a question, it's a resignation. Why am I surprised? There's not much to like about me: I'm short, plain, and as un-special as a girl can come. I'm not smart, I'm not cool, and I'm a really sucky fighter. No one loves me, not even my father, so why should Nico?

Did he ever?

Does it matter?

_Yes._ To me, it does.

Lost in the maze of my thoughts and unworthy self-pity, I don't notice when Nico moves until his cool hand is brushing my cheek.

"Hey." He says gently. "What's wrong?"

"Why do you ask?" I say bluntly, swallowing. It's harder than it should be.

"Um, you're crying," he points out.

Oh, shit.

I wipe at my cheeks, brushing his hand away without meaning to. He jerks it away, his face freezing for a second.

"Sorry," I manage, bobbing Brian. "I- just… I'm sorry."

He chuckles dryly. "What for this time?"

"Eh-everyth-thing," I sob, holding back the flood of tears that didn't already break through.

"Hey, hey, shh. It'll all work out." Awkwardly, he pats my back.

"H-how do you kn-know?"

"It's just a guess," he admits.

"Oh._ Oh._" Finally, I let the tears go.

I'm not worth him. I never was.

Why did I ever think I was?

Oh, right. Because I'm an idiot.

Brian shifts, disturbed by my wails and tears. He unlatches and opens his mouth to wail. Without a word, Nico takes him and stops the disaster before it strikes.

"My hero," I say dramatically, closing my bra and rebuttoning my shirt. I rather like this shirt- it's a bright, beautiful cerulean-teal with one-quarter sleeves and distinct stitching. Plus, it's easier to feed Brian when I don't have to pull off my shirt entirely.

Nico laughs quietly, bouncing our son.

Brian has only gained cuteness since his birth, his skin losing its redness bit by bit, his hair thickening to a thatch of black hair. His eyes are really round and wide and a truly beautiful navy. But, given our eyes colors, his eyes'll probably be brown or black-purple. Personally, I'm hoping for black-purple; it was mom's eye color. Something to remember her by, I guess, without having to see my ugly mug in the mirror. But I'd be totally okay if he had Nico's eyes. It's more likely, actually, 'cause brown eyes are a dominant gene.

Honestly, he looks more like Nico than I- I think.

But whatever. I cover my mouth with my hand as I ya-awn a huge yawn. I'm so tired… the sun is so warm… the loveseat is so soft… Nico is so comforting… I lean against his shoulder without meaning to. I jerk away as soon as I realize what I'm doing. My baby-daddy chuckles and gives a small grin.

"S'alright, Torie. Go ahead."

Sleepily, I nod and rest my head back on his broad shoulder. "Thanks," I mutter before I close my eyes.


	11. I Won't Disagree

**Okay, first of all: this is a dream.**

**Second of all: this is an erotic dream. If you can't take that, skip to the very end. The last ten lines are Torie after she wakes up. Those are perfectly clean. If it's not perfect, don't give me flames- this is my first sexual scene. I've never had sex or anything like that (dude, I was lucky to get _kissed_), so the facts might be a bit fudged. Deal with it.**

**If you send pointless flames, I WILL BLOCK YOU. I'm not kidding. I can live with constructive criticism, but if it doesn't help, it's flames, and I will not deal with that crap. **

**Now that that's out of the way, read, review, regurgitate your fav lines! Feel free to guess who is the singer to this song! Virtual cookies of your choice to the first person to correctly guess!  
**

_Chapter XI: I Won't Disagree_

I don't know how long I sleep, or how long I wait to even fall asleep- it seems to blur together.

Gradually, I find myself in a huge black marble chamber with glorious onyx Greek pillars and ceiling. Shallow lamp-bowls float in the air lazily, glowing with the lit wicks twirling in the oil. Set against the only wall is a traditional huge traditional Greek bed, the skins on it a deep violet, the posts a marbled black-and-smoke, studded with purple garnets and jet. Surrounding the building or platform or whatever is, is only a gorgeous dark peach-pink-orange blend of dim light.

I'm standing in the middle of the room. I look down (I don't know why), and find that I'm wearing a deep gold knee-length Grecian-style dress with white sparkling trim. My stomach is as flat as it was before Brian, and the dress flatters what little figure I have. My hair is loose and rippling down my back in soft, straight auburn locks. My feet are bare, but all my skin is dusted lightly with a shimmery iridescent powder. A single ring rests on my middle finger, an ancient gold ring with a wide base and a black rectangular jewel with flecks of gold on it, and, in the center of the gem, a design of a Greek sun in a faded white glows faintly. Somehow, I know this ring is Apollo's ring of light and honesty. I have no idea what it does or what it even is, but I know in that dream-like way that it's important.

I glance at the ceiling, and I become entranced by the slightly circular, very slow whirlpool-ish movement of the oil dishes. I don't notice someone is behind me until the hands gently and slowly rest on my narrow, turned-out hips. Somehow, however, I am not surprised, and I turn my neck to the right and slightly up with half-closed eyes. My hair lightly swishes against my dress. The man behind me twists out of my sight before I can identify him, keeping closely behind me, and sweeps aside my hair, leaving behind a soft kiss on the back of my neck. Involuntarily, I shiver. Then I twist my head, trying to catch a glimpse of the loving man behind me.

Again he evades my vision, but this time I manage to catch a flash of silken black hair with my eyes.

"Haven't you been told the tale of Eros and Psyche?" his deep voice murmurs, taking my hand and pressing his tender lips to it briefly.

"Yes," I reply, enchanted by his melodic cadence.

"Can you not learn from her mistakes?"

"Perhaps," I whisper, stepping forward. The man steps with me. "But didn't they live happily in the end, both knowing the others' face?"

"I know your face," he chuckles.

"But I don't know yours," I insist.

"Of course you do," he contradicts. "You know it well."

"Who are you?" I breathe as he begins to drag his hands softly over my back, causing me to arch it slightly.

He catches me by surprise, twirling me around by my waist to face him. Before I can see his face, however, he kisses me with a fervor and passion that is clearly the opposite of his previous touches. He grabs my face, cupping my cheekbones and ears with almost chilly hands. He tilts my head up further as he leans forward and releases the right side of my face to lift me from the ground. The hand still on my cheek migrates to the back of my head as he walks. Where we are going I do not know, (nor do I care. Much) until he rests me slowly and sweetly on a taut, soft skin.

The bed.

My eyes are closed, and once I open them, he has moved. I turn my head to find this master of mystery, and my lips meet soft skin- his lips, to be precise. However, his don't stay there long, and he moves them down my chin to my neck. When he reaches the spot an inch above my collarbone and nearly an inch away from the line in the center of my throat, he nips. I gasp.

"My Torie. My Apollina. _Mine_," he murmurs against my neck. I feel his cold breath.

"Don't call me that," I mutter. He laughs softly.

"Mine?"

"_Apollina_."

My strap on the left falls off my shoulder, and I go to replace it, but he stops my hand and kisses where the gold cloth used to be. I begin to tingle all over.

"Oh," I gasp quietly. I feel him move back up, to look me in the face. I close my eyes, and when I open them, his wide brown eyes greet me.

"Nico," I breathe.

"Of course, Torie. No one else is allowed to love you."

"What kind of love?" I ask quietly, placing a hand low on his stomach. He shifts.

"Every kind," he whispers, and then he kisses me with the same eagerness as before. My other hand traces his jawbone as we kiss.

The kiss morphs. It becomes tender and meticulous.

"Nico," I whisper.

"Torie," he responds in like.

I tug on his shirt, trying to pull it up. Nico lets loose another chuckle, but he complies. I pull it off entirely and gaze at his wonderful midsection.

"Your turn," Nico prods, his voice full of mirth. Compliantly, I pull the lovely dress over my head, revealing the white sweetheart strapless bra and bikini underpants. They seem to glow in the dim light against my tan skin.

Nico puts his arms around me, reaching for the clasp on my bra. I lift my arms slightly in compliance. I feel the release of the cloth and let the material droop until Nico slowly pulls it away. He kisses my sternum.

"Beautiful," he murmurs. I run my hands over his firm, muscular chest.

"Not as beautiful as you."

I feel his laughter against my breast. "I beg to differ, Torie."

"Go ahead and beg all you want."

My hands trail down his chest and stomach, until I reach the button on his black jeans. I pull it slightly, and it flicks back at him. He smirks, but it's loving.

"Are you sure?" he asks, but his face tells me he already knows my answer.

"Always," I murmur, and I push the metal piece through the buttonhole. Gracefully, he shimmies out of the pants, with only a little guidance from me, revealing- you guessed it- black cotton boxers.

The loss of extra clothing gives me a new fervor, and I lean forward to kiss him. We meet instead halfway. My hands reach his shoulders, and I use them to pull him closer and closer to me. Nico wraps his arms around my lower waist, pulling _me_ closer to _him_.

Closeness. It's what we both want.

With one hand, I release his shoulder to pull off my panties. He puts one hand on top of mine to guide it. In moments, the hindering white cloth is off.

We break apart to pant for a moment, and then we meet again, our passion rekindled in the moment apart.

"Nico," I whisper with strength I didn't know I had.

"My Torie," he pants. I place my hands on his hips and slide them down, taking his boxers with them. I know he is ready.

I know I am.

We pull together, our kisses more frenzied and rushed than before. He seeks my entrance, so I spread my legs hale for him. We become one.

And, of course, I wake up.

For a moment, I'm disoriented by the bright light in the room and the lack of, well, Nico. Then I know that it was a dream and Nico doesn't love me.

Is it sad that I want to cry?

Or is it even sadder that I start to?

"Whoa, don't start crying, Torie!"

I jump and scream.

"Who the hell are you why are you in my room get the hell out!"

"Relax, dude. Is that any way to talk to your father?"

_My father?_

Oh, shit. Oh, fucking shit.


	12. Let It Be

**I'm a little disappointed in the reaction to my latest chapters- it's like all my readers went off and died! **

**Oh, well. Read and perhaps review for me?  
**

_Chapter XII: Let It Be_

I stare at the man, wide-eyed and shocked.

He looks just like Rachel's painting- but less smeary. Sandy hair, wide smirk, bright eyes. He looks about Percy's age, maybe a bit older or younger. Tan, with a dimple and light freckles.

I'm a little surprised; now that I've seen him in person, I realize how much I look like him. I mean, you look over his lanky masculinity and all, and I have his skin, various facial features, and the long legs. And the stupid straight hair.

Why couldn't he have had curly hair when he boinked Mom?

Apollo chuckles. "Grass is always greener," he replies with a grin.

Gah. "That's creepy," I point out.

He shrugs. "You'd be surprised how often I get that."

"Did Mom do that?"

The question slips out before I think it through. But my father cocks his head (I do that, too! Another thing I got from him!) and truly considers it.

"No," he says thoughtfully. "She liked to play games. She would come up with tongue-twisters and think them, then make me say them to prove I could read her mind."

"Oh," I say, thinking about that. I snap back to reality, though, after a moment in la-la land. "What're you doing here?"

"Can't a man visit his daughter?" he chuckles and gives me a charm grin I really wish I had inherited.

"Not after abandoning her for fifteen years," I snap.

"Then can a man visit his grandson by said daughter?"

"Oh, I get it," I lean back and give him my 'slow sizzle' glare. "You never took a liking to me because of my gender. You only care about me now because I gave you a male in your line."

"What? Of course not!" Apollo looks honestly taken aback and little bit pissed… Good. He knows how I feel.

"So then what's your excuse for never contacting me, never looking at me, never even let anyone know that I'm your kid?" I growl. "Is it my lack of battling prowess? 'Cause not every Apollo kid can utilize a bow and arrow. Or maybe it's my stupidity. You're fully to blame for that, you know, since Mom was such a genius. Or is it just the fact _that you never gave a damn_ for _no_ apparent reason? Hm. Food for thought," I end sarcastically.

"Hey," Apollo says sharply. The room begins to heat up. "I always cared!"

"Well, you have a funny way of showing it, _Dad_."

"I claimed you, didn't I?"

"Only because you had too!"

"I was going to do it anyway! I was just busy!"

"Too busy to give your _daughter_ the two seconds it took to make a glowing sun float over my head?"

"Yes! I have obligations! Like making sure half the world doesn't freeze to death!"

"But not too busy to go out and make more kids you don't give a fuck about!"

"It's hard to be a god! There are responsibilities involved!"

"Like screwing every girl who looks at you?"

"No! That's my release!"

"Oh yeah, I get it now. Knock up innocent teens so you get more useless _responsibilities_."

"It's not like that!"

"Of course it isn't."

I give a small sniff without realizing it, only to find that I'm crying. Apollo seems to notice it for the first time, too. The room cools off a bit.

"Hey, it's okay…"

"No, it's not!" I snap loudly, wiping my face angrily. "You've never loved me!"

The room seems to freeze. My door opens.

Nico stands there, blinking like a deer in the headlights, holding Brian.

"Is this a bad time?"

"Yes!" Apollo demands.

"No!" I contradict, glaring at my father.

"Um…" Nico's eyes dart between us, as though deciding who he's more afraid of.

"You're the boy who got my daughter pregnant," Apollo says suddenly in dark, dangerous voice. "Come in here."

Nico hesitates, looking a tad frightened.

"_Now._"

He scurries in, still clutching our son.

"_Sit._"

Nico complies. Next to me. I nudge him.

"What?" he whispers at me, his eyes huge with semi-panic.

"I want Brian," I say flatly. It's no use whispering; Apollo can hear our thoughts.

"If I have Brian, he won't roast me," Nico explains. "I like life. I plan on living it longer."

"Yeah, then you better give me my son, 'cause if you don't, I will kill you," I reply, half-mocking, half-serious.

"Why?"

"Two reasons: one, I want to hold him; two, if I hold him I won't attempt to strangle Apollo."

"Okay, two things, Torie," Apollo complains, taking my 'two' cue. "One, stop calling me 'Apollo'. I'm your dad; perhaps you could actually call me that? Two, why do you want to strangle me?"

"Well, mostly because you never gave a fuck about me-"

Nico hissed. "Little ears, Torie!" I ignored him.

"-but also because the fact that decided to show up here- unannounced- kinda pisses me off." I set my jaw in a flat not-really-a-smile grimace sort of thing. "And why the Hades should I call you Dad when you've never acted like it?"

Apollo- _Dad_- cocked his head again and considered my words.

"I guess you don't really have a reason to, but I'd still like it if you did," he replies finally. "Plus, it's never wise to piss off a god." He grins at me, and his eyes kinda glow.

"What're you gonna do, kill your own daughter?" I reply haughtily, but my pounds, counteracting my nonchalant act. I'm with Nico on this one- I don't wanna die.

Apollo laughed. "Depends on how mad you make me."

"Would you kill the father of your grandson?" I ask daringly.

"Hell yeah," Apollo said without hesitation. "He screwed my daughter. What dad wouldn't want to?"

"The one who had had nothing to do with said daughter before the said screwing?" I suggested wryly. Apollo looked at me seriously.

"Believe it or not, Torie, I always loved you."

I scoff. "Yeah, well, you had an awfully neglectful way of showing it!"

"Stop it, Torie," my father orders, growing more serious. "Now is not the time."

"When would the time be, then?" I challenge sarcastically. "Another of your dime-a-dozen visits?"

"I'm gonna visit again!" Apollo protests.

"Suuuuuuuuuuure," I reply, disbelief complimenting the distrust staining my tone.

"I want to see my grandbaby," he replies quietly, giving Brian a quick but longing look. I sigh huffily.

"Fine," I concede with a growl-snap. "Nico, give him Brian."

Nico gives me a startled-slash-scared look.

'Go,' I mouth at him. Trembling slightly at first, he hands my sleeping son to Apollo.

"Thanks, dude," Apollo said shortly, his bright eyes glued on Brian.

Silence prevails.

"He's gonna have Mary's eyes," Apollo whispered. "I loved her eyes. I remember the first day she knew you had her eyes. She called me, all excited. Even after our fling was done, she was always my friend; probably my only mortal one," he chuckled softly, cradling Brian's head in his long-fingered hand. "I remember the first time I saw your mother… she was walking out of the library, carrying a stack of books like they were babies, this dreamy look on her face. The first thing I noticed about her was her hair. It was brilliant, a sun resting on her head- so bright, so thick."

"Mom hated her hair," I responded quietly. "She always said it got in the way too much. She could never tie it back unless she used a super thick and strong scrunchie while her hair was still wet."

"I know," Apollo smirked. "I remember."

The quiet surrounds us again, but more comfortably than last time.

"She was seventeen, y'know," he says. "Only two years older than you."

"I know," I reply. "She used to say that I was the perfect gift for that time of her life."

"Her mother was a real hellhound, of the female variety," Dad adds. "Janie never cared about anyone but herself; she resented Mary. How any could…" He shrugs, careful not to disturb Brian. "Mark had died of cancer a couple months before I met your mom. Janie got real pissed when she found out Mary was preggers," Dad chuckles. "Said she was trying to piss her off on purpose. Mary… Mary just stood her ground and said what she did was none of Janie's business because Janie never gave a damn what she did." He looks up at me, tearing his eyes away from my son. "Kinda sounds familiar," he says softly.

"I'm sorry… No, I take that back, I'm not. You needed to hear that," I decide aloud. Dad laughs.

"You are definitely my daughter," he chuckles, and kisses Brian's forehead. Again, the room grows quiet and still but for Nico nervous twitches.

"Are you gonna kill me not?" he finally wails desperately.


	13. Fidelity

_Chapter XIII: Fidelity_

Time passes like a river, flowing in an endless cycle- all roads lead to the same path. Death is the destination at the end, like the ocean is always the goal of those little rivers, those little lives. And like rivers, sometimes our paths merge with another's, only to split away, but always carrying a bit of them with us, to the very end. Sometimes, though, you stay close forever, entwining your thoughts, your loves, your hopes…

I wish that someone could have been Nico.

In the (over) two years that I passed, I think I have only fallen further for the boy I broke up with.

Stupid, stupid world we live in.

In the time that has come and gone, there were two Christmases, five "family" birthdays, two wretched Valentine's days, countless diapers and sleepless nights, and endless tears in the warmth of my room when Nico wasn't there.

The first year, I still held hope for our relationship to rekindle. He still did those sweet things like let me sleep on his shoulder, or take Brian when it's just a bad day, or offer to fight the kids who say, "Aren't you too young to be a mom?" Actually, he still does them. But now I know that it's because he pities me. Apparently, I'm very pitiable. But I held onto the thought that _maybe it's possible. Maybe I can be pretty enough for him someday… maybe he'll wait. _But the _maybe_'s turned to ash in the dawning of the second year. First, he started being distracted more, staring away from me, like the sight of me pained him. Why shouldn't it, though? I've made a mess of his life, and I'm not good-looking enough to make up for that. Then his gaze started going someplace in particular. To Giannine Phillips.

Or, as I so call her, _her_.

I hoped very little after that. Even less after she started looking back.

See, Gia is a daughter of Aphrodite, so, naturally, she's gorgeous. She's everything I'm absolutely not- curly chestnut hair; sparkly light blue almond eyes; pale, rosy skin with no freckles; a sweet button nose; tall; beautiful. She's also a complete sweetheart. No competition, but if there was, she would win.

Whenever she sees me, she'll give me her cheerful smile and ask about Brian and has my dad visited lately? Oh, and she loves how I did my hair today! Did I use special conditioner to get it to do that? No? My hair must be really nice, then- her hair is terrible in the humidity. (Psh. Yeah, right.) It's no wonder Nico chose her. She's wonderful.

But she doesn't love Nico like I do; I don't think she loves him, period. Oh, she definitely likes him, but not love. Not yet.

But back to the review of the past years. Annabeth got me books in Greek for Christmas this year, which was wonderful- direct translations of my favorite novels (Harry Potter, Dracula, The Time Travelers' Wife, and a whole bunch of Jodi Picoults) with Percy. Georgina, of course, got me chapstick, which she does every year, because it's cheap and easy to get. Nico got me my favorite lotion and body wash and perfume- Enchanted Orchid from Bath & Body Works. Even Gia got me something- lavender bush starts for my garden. And of course everyone spoiled Brian to death! Then his birthday came, which was even worse…

Now it's summer, and Brian is two, and I am seventeen. Nico is eighteen, as is Gia. Percy and Annabeth turned 21, and each got uproariously drunk on their birthday. Grover was the 'designated driver'. He promised to do the same for me, in four years.

Percy was quite funny drunk; he couldn't seem to look straight at something, and jumped nearly a foot every time someone got close to him. He talked loudly and with a funny lilt to his voice, too. Annabeth just started babbling quietly to herself about structure and brown glass. With Clarisse, however, she just kept drinking more with no noticeable difference. It was _insane_; she must've drunk three six-packs, at least.

But despite everything that's been going on and, y'know, losing ANY possibility of Nico being mine, life isn't too bad. I mean, it still sucks, but it doesn't suck _too_ badly. I think.

Today is the first day of camp. Campers are coming in at different times, satyrs dragging in confused-looking newbies, moms and dads leaving with teary goodbye's, and I'm sitting on the porch of the Big House, with Brian asleep on my lap.

Dad was right; he does have Mom's eyes, big, round, and black-purple. He has my nose, now, too, but he has that darkly beautiful look that Nico has.

No, I haven't dropped my crush on Nico. Yes, it's pathetic. I've just given up hope that he could ever like me back.

Nico's in his cabin, brooding, of course, and Gia is greeting new campers and telling them what's-what. Annabeth is waiting for Percy to show up so they can go make out shamelessly. Clarisse is sitting next to me, nursing a school-is-out-let's-go-get-drunk hangover headache. While she doesn't get loopy from alcohol, she does get the after-affects. Plus, Chris recently left the camp for college in Europe, and told Clarisse that he doesn't want a long distance relationship, basically breaking up with her. So, I was put on make-sure-Clarisse-doesn't-kill-anyone duty. You'd be surprised how often I get stuck with it. Percy manages to dodge duty every time like a bullet, somehow.

My stomach has finally gone back to its former glory (ish). I celebrated when I lost that last extra pound- you'd be surprised how long it took. I feel great, but at the same time, depressed. There's no one who'll look at me tell me how fantastic I look and give me a kiss to prove it. Brian, obviously, doesn't care, so long as I can pick him up and feed him on time and play with him when he wants me to. Annabeth told me I looked like I'd been working out, and Percy said, "What? Ouch! Um, yeah, Torie, you look great!" Georgina just grunted when I told her, saying, "You still have an ugly face. Losing weight didn't change that."

Gee, thanks.

Brian has started to wake up when a new kid, probably my age, comes up to the porch, looks at Brian and I, and says, "Babysitting?"

"Is it babysitting when it's your own kid?" I reply dryly. I wait for the usual reactions: widened eyes, gasps, looking away, looking down, telling me I'm too young to have a kid, etc. I'm not disappointed.

The kid, a boy who's nearly as short as I am, with white-blonde hair and Athena's gray eyes and freckles, gives a small nervous cough, looks down and makes a face he thinks I can't see.

"Oh. Um. What's, er, his name?" he asks awkwardly.

I shift. "Brian."

"What's _your_ name?"

"Torie, daughter of Apollo."

"Timothy, son of Athena."

"Did she ask?" Clarisse snaps, glaring at the boy.

"Clarisse, be nice," I say firmly. She glares at me, and then looks away. "This is Clarisse, daughter of Ares."

"Don't tell him that! He'll know where to find me!" she whines.

"He could just ask anyone where the girl with the bad temper and mean glare lived, and they'd say, 'Oh, Clarisse? Daughter of Ares.'"

"Shut up, Torie," she moans.

"You first," I retort.

"Pff."

"Um… I'll just… go," Timothy stammers.

"Sure," I gesture. "Your cabin's that way."

"Thanks," he mutters, and walks away.

I repeat this experience a few more times with various other new campers ('cause all the old ones already know about Brian's, ah, adventures, let alone that he exists), until one comes that surprises me.

He's tall, taller than Nico, with light chocolate eyes flecked with amber and green, and loose deep, dark brown curls falling into his eyes and Italian olive skin like Nico's.

"Hello, I am Bernando Ricci," he greets in thick but sexy Italian accent. "Is this your nephew?"

"Nope," I sigh out, because he's really, really cute and I don't want to make him hate me already. "This is my son, Brian."

Brian smiles and waves cheerfully. "Hihi!" he chirps energetically.

Bernando waves back. "Hello, little Brian. I can see the resemblance," he tells me with a charming smile. "He has your eyes."

"My mother's eyes, actually," I correct, then wish I hadn't. They are my eyes, really, and what difference does it make? But Bernando's eyes sparkle with humor.

"I wonder how far back you could go with that train of thought," he teases. "Perhaps back to Eve?"

"Not that far," I counter. "Who can trace their origins back that far? Especially us here."

"So your mother was the god in your genealogy?" He asks politely.

"No, actually, it's my father- Apollo. I'm Torie."

"Oh, Vittoria!" He says dramatically. "I greet you and your handsome son with the utmost reverence!"

I find myself giggling, and Clarisse gives me the stink-eye.

"Do you know who your god parent is?" I ask eagerly.

"Alas, I do not," he sighs. "But I have faith in whoever he is."

"So your mom is the mortal?"

"Like you, I believe."

"Yup."

"But where is this charming boys' father?" Bernando says, changing the subject, though I don't know why.

"Nico di Angelo, son of Hades," I respond immediately. Bernando looks vaguely disappointed.

"And he is still in your life?"

I sigh. "Yes, but in the way you imply. We broke up two years ago."

"And he was a fool for letting you go," Bernando professes.

"Hardly," I snort. "I was the fool for forcing him to go."

"And yet I am glad you did, for how else would I be able to convince you to go out with me?"

I sit in shock. _Is he seriously asking me out?_

Clarisse breaks in.

"Get lost, loser. I have a headache, and Miss Lover-Girl's giggling is making it worse. Scram!"

Bernando smiles apologetically. "I shall take my leave, beloved Vittoria. Until later!"

And then he leaves.

"Who was _that_?" Nico says from behind me. I scream and jump, making Brian, who is sitting in front of me, stare with wide eyes at me.

"Don't _do_ that, Nico!" I scold.

"Who was that?" he repeats.

"Bernando Ricci, undetermined," I reply. "Why?"

"I don't like him," he says flatly.

"You don't have to," I remind him. "Clarisse doesn't like anyone, yet she's happy."

"Go fry yourself," Clarisse flips me off.

"See?" I point out. "Why don't you like him?"

"I just don't," he huffs, and walks away, kicking anything that gets in way- pebbles, rocks, dirt, people.

_What's his problem?_ I wonder.


	14. Summer Skin

_**Okay, I'm at 100 reviews! I AM SO HAPPY RIGHT NOW, I COULD BUST A LUNG. But I won't. And to **_Emma ()_**, it was a little irritating that you asked to be mentioned. Future reference. **_

**_This chapter is for _****_, who totally made my week with her reviews and comments._**

**_What do you think of Bernando? What about Gia?

* * *

_**

_Chapter XIV: Summer Skin_

Okay, part of my deal of living in the Big House is I have to help with stuff like laundry. So I'm washing a buttload of sheets and pillowcases when someone comes behind me and covers my eyes.

"Guess," a deep, accented voice suggests.

"Bernando," I reply quickly; I don't like being unable to see. The hands move off my face and begin lightly stroking my arms, making the hairs on them stand on end.

"You are no fun," he complains.

"Believe it or not, you're not the first person to say that," I respond easily, shoving more cloth in the huge machine.

Bernando sighs. "Come away with me?" he offers.

"Where to?" I laughed. "I really can't. I have chores."

He pouts. "Please, Vittoria?"

I feel a shiver flush through my veins. _Damn that accent._

"Maybe later," I relent. Bernando smiles.

"How much later?" he presses.

"After lunch."

"So long!" he says, dramatically placing his hand on his forehead. I laugh again, but less mockingly now.

"I have to finish this load, then clean my room, help make lunch, then feed Brian and then clean him up," I remind him. "It's my responsibility."

"Can't your… Nico…" he says with nearly indiscernible distaste, "take Brian for the morning?"

I shake my head. "One, Nico's not mine. Two, no, Nico takes Brian in the afternoons."

"Do you really trust that son of Hades with your child?" Bernando asks. I stare at him in shock. He was just asking me to shove Brian off to Nico!

"Of course I do!" I say, wide-eyed. "Nico has never been anything but supportive and helpful! Besides, Brian isn't just _my child_; he's Nico's, too! And while he may be a son of Hades, he's no more as cruel as his father than I am as flightly as mine! You don't know Nico; how dare you judge him!"

I realize my stance has changed- I am now standing as tall as I can at my puny 5'2.5" with my hands on my hips, fuming, scowling at Bernando.

He puts his hands up in surrender. "You are right. I have no right to judge. I apologize."

I let my hands fall to my sides. "Yeah." I go back to the laundry.

"How about we go to the lake?" Bernando says after a moment of silence. "After lunch, I mean."

Inwardly, I smile. "Sure," I shrug. "I'll meet you at the dock."

* * *

"You're an idiot," Clarisse hisses at me as we pass during the burn-food-for-your-parent part of lunch

"We've established that… What is it this time?"

"Ber-nan-do," she says, stressing each syllable.

"What about him?"

"Ni-co," she continues, as though talking to an infant. A _stupid_ infant.

"What about _him_?"

"You're an idiot," Clarisse repeats and walks away.

Leaving me totally bewildered.

"What was that about?" Amber asks me, eyes wide. Then again, they always are.

"I'm not sure," I reply, perplexed.

"So what's this I hear about your date with Mister New And Sexy?" Lania says.

"Ew, Lan, he's way too young for you!"

"Only four years difference!" she protests. "Way to make me feel old, Amber!"

Amber gives a mock bow, the newly cropped edges of her honey curls brushing her cheeks. As she grew older, Amber really grew into a sunshine-beauty; tan skin, golden hair, and sparkly blue eyes. Boys can't take their eyes off her.

"You are old, Lania," I point out, plucking the top off a strawberry and offering it to Brian. "Twenty-two is old."

"To a seventeen-year-old, maybe. Or a fifteen-year-old," she adds snarkily.

"Oh, shut up," Amber replies cheerfully.

I'm eating my food at top speed, hoping to get away without an interrogation from my half-sisters. No such luck.

"So?" Lania prods.

"So…?" I reply, stalling.

"So, how about that date?"

"What date?"

"It's so a date, Torie," Lania says flatly.

"What about Nico?" Amber asks uneasily.

"What about him?" I ask in surprise.

They both roll their eyes.

"You're an idiot," Lania informs me.

"But it's not like we're going out!" I protest. "He has a girlfriend! He's way over me! And I'd like to be over him, y'know. It's not like I'm cheating on Nico or anything!"

"Yup, she's an idiot," Amber confirms.

"More!" Brian demands, "Mommy, I want more!"

"Say please," I reply gently.

"Please," he answers promptly. Obligingly, I give him another roll of bread. He tears it apart and shoves the pieces into his mouth.

"How am I an idiot?" I prod Amber with my index finger. "Any more than Amber, anyway."

"I never said you were worse than Amber, which you are, just that you were an idiot," Lania clarifies snootily.

"I'm not _that_ bad!" Amber cries. "She's… oblivious!"

"To what?" I cry.

They ignore me.

"Well, you are bit of an idiot," fourteen-year old Felicia points out. "I mean, have you seen the way you lose things?"

"That's not being an idiot," Amber argues. "That's being forgetful. Torie's mom was a friggin' genius, and she was completely scatter-brained!"

I laugh. "That's true," I admit. "I'm glad I didn't get that part of her. But what am I oblivious about?"

"See? You can be smart and forgetful!" Amber waves her hands dramatically. "I win! The golden laurels go to _me_!"

"Oh, shut up," Lania snaps.

"Gladly," Amber rejoices, "as I am still hungry!"

"Then shut up and eat!"

Throughout lunch, Amber and Lania continue to bicker noisily, about various things, but primarily Amber's big mouth and the functions therein. I ignore them; ever since Amber turned fifteen, she clashed with Lania in rather hilarious ways, but it got boring after a while. Now I just ignore their sisterly antics.

After lunch, while Amber and Lania are still going at it, I put my plate in the Table 7 Plate Pile, and I sneak off to the dock.

For a few minutes, I sit on the old wood, my toes barely touching the cool water, letting my loose hair twirl in the breeze. I'm just fishing a lock of auburn hair out of my face and wondering what Nico's doing with Brian right now when two warm hands crash onto my narrow shoulders, causing me to shriek and fall into the water.

It's not actually that bad- it's a welcome relief from the heat, but it's a bit of a shock.

I stay under as long as I can, hoping to freak Bernando out ('cause I know it's him) but no one comes in to save me.

_Who would want to?_ I remind myself, and then I resurface. Bernando is sitting on the dock, laughing.

"Thanks," I say dryly. "Help me out."

"You'll just pull me in!" he protests.

"I won't," I promise, and he tugs me out.

I don't pull him in.

I promised, okay?

"Thanks," I say, squeezing my soggy orange shirt out. Bernando just lets out another laugh, and takes a hold of my hair and starts wringing it out the way I was my shirt.

Hint: it hurt.

"Ow!" I mutter, pulling away.

"Sorry," he apologizes, his face blank.

"S'alright."

Once I'm finished trying to get un-wet, Bernando sits next to me on the now-splattered dock.

"What do you want to do?" I ask after a moment.

"Sit and talk?" he suggests.

"About…?" I prod.

"Whatever."

So we sit and share the details of our lives together, which, as boring as it may sound, isn't.

The sun is setting when Nico slips out. Bernando doesn't notice him. Nico's face is… angry? Why?

"Torie!" He hisses. "Where _have_ you _been_?"

"Here?" I say tentatively. I've very, very rarely seen him like this. Maybe once, when a monster got summoned into camp and tried to get at Brian. And then Nico didn't shout; he went stony and made the earth swallow it up.

"We've been worried!" he continues angrily.

"We who?" Bernando say disdainfully.

"Annabeth, Percy, me, Clarisse, Chiron," Nico rattles off. "Why do you need to know, newbie?"

"Nico!" I snap. "Be nice! We were just talking! What's got your Underworld is such a twist?"

"Never mind," Nico growls. "Brian's sleeping in my cabin tonight. Thought you should know. Good-bye, Torie." With that, he struts away into the shadows.

"What's his problem?" Bernando scoffs.

"I… don't know…"


	15. Reflection

_Chapter XV: Reflection_

My room felt so empty without Brian in it. I mean, Brian's spent the night with Nico before, but every time I feel the loss of my sons' presence. And I know that eventually Brian'll have to move out of my room and get his own (hello? Can you imagine a ten-year-old boy sharing a room with his mom?), but for now…

I fell asleep, quickly, however, and had dreams I knew were weird even though I couldn't remember them when I woke up.

Once I woke up, I dressed and spruced up my room as best I could without a vacuum. Then I readied myself for going to get Brian.

Striding towards Nico's cabin, a thought occurs to me: what if Nico's _jealous_?

I mean, there's no real reason why he would be, but that seems to be what everyone's implying… But it doesn't make sense. As I approach the door to the gloomy black cabin, I dismiss the idea. It isn't plausible.

When I reach the door, I hear voices. And yes, I know it's wrong to eavesdrop, but I can't help myself.

"…Nico, I'm breaking up with you." It's Gia's gentle voice.

"What? Why?" Nico demands.

"There's a couple reasons, but primarily, I don't love you… and you don't love me."

"What makes you think that?"

"Mostly the way you look at her. You don't look at me like that."

"I don't get it…"

Gia sighs.

"Nico, I know for a fact that you aren't nearly as clueless as she is. You know what I mean, who I mean."

Footsteps. Nico's pacing.

"Yeah, I guess so. But…"

"But what, Nico?"

"She doesn't love me. She keeps hanging around _him_, that… _boy_."

"He's older than her. Does that make her just a girl?"

"No! She's been through so much more than he has! It aged her… it made her right."

"You love her, Nico. Why can't you just tell her that?"

"Because she'll just tell me what she told me before! Only now she'll say that there's someone else in her life."

Gia laughs softly. "Hardly. I really believe her heart belongs to you."

Nico snorts.

"Nico, just…"

"Maybe I can try to love you."

Nico's words are nearly broken.

"I mean, if I try hard enough… maybe I can forget about her."

Silence.

"You know that's not true. You'll never love anyone more than you love her, I don't think- no woman, anyway. And I wouldn't want you to. You and her- you belong together. It may as well have been written in the stars, aligned by the gods. You will always love her, and she'll always love you. I just wish one of you could tell the other."

Nico laughs a bitter, bitter laugh.

"She doesn't love me, Gia. I know that. I've faced it."

"I really think she does, Nico!" Gia replies earnestly. "I can see it when she talks about you, when you appear, when you touch her."

Silence.

"I can't tell her."

"Stubborn boy. You need to cowboy-up, ghost king."

"She has _him_ now. She doesn't need me."

"That's a lie. She'll always need you, in some way or another."

"I love her… but she can't love me. Who would want me?"

I can almost hear Gia smile. "Just about every girl who gets a good look at you- perhaps even a bad look at you."

"I hardly see them jumping at the chance to date me," Nico replies dryly.

"That's partially because you're so frighteningly hot. Another part is the fact that everyone can see how much you love someone else."

I can't take it any more.

I run away as quietly as I can.

He never loved me.

He always loved her, whoever she is.

Nico loves someone else. His heart will always belong to her.

He'll never love me the way I love him.

* * *

Once I'm finished bawling my eyes out and crying myself a lonesome pity-party, I go back to Nico's cabin and knock.

"Hey, Torie, you okay?"

"Yeah," I lie. "Just allergies."

"I didn't know you had any."

"Well, yeah, I do," I snap. "Where's Brian?"

Nico looks taken aback by my mood.

"Oh, Torie, there you are!" Lania calls. "Here."

She shoves a huge bouquet of wild flowers into my hands.

"Why did you get me flowers?" I blurt.

"I didn't, loser, but Mister New-And-Sexy did," she replies. "He wants to say that he's thinking of you and he'll be in the archery field after lunch to have a competition with you."

"I'll give him competition," I think I hear Nico mumble, but I must be hearing him wrong. "Mr. New-And-Sexy?"

"Lania's _rude_," I say pointedly, "nickname for Bernando."

"What's my nickname?" he asks.

"No-!" I start to protest, but Lania doesn't even pause.

"Untouchable. And Sexy. And Brian's Father. And That-One-Guy-Who-Got-Torie-Pregnant."

"Oh," Nico says, frowning. "How am I untouchable?"

Lania rolls her eyes.

"You're almost as bad as Torie," she informs him. "Almost."

"Oh-kay then," Nico replies, looking mildly confused but uncaring.

* * *

"Thanks for the flowers," I say as Bernando tries to sneak up on me.

"How did you know it was me?" He asks.

"The weight and pattern of your steps," I say, and then I blush.

"Huh. How about that archery contest, O daughter of Apollo?" Bernando suggests, wiggling his eyebrows.

I laugh.

"You'll win," I tell him sagely. "I suck at archery. Or any kind of fighting."

"Well, then," Bernando replies, looking slightly taken aback but with a new gleam in his eyes, "I'll teach you."

"Um," I chuckle, "Chiron and Dad and Annabeth have all tried. I can't even get the arrow on the target, let alone near the center."

"Here," he answers, snatching a bow and a queue of arrows from the archery supplies stack. "Hold the bow like-" Bernando demonstrated. "-this, and angle the bow like so. Okay?"

"Okay," I replied tentatively. I took the bow and arrow and positioned them like he did. "Now what?"

"You pull back- just like that, yeah- and let go! Ah, good try, anyway." He pauses. "Did I tell you I got claimed?"

"Really? No! Who?" I squeal.

"Nemesis, Goddess of Revenge," he answered proudly.

_That doesn't seem like him- revenge…_I thought. _Hmm._

"Cool," I reply. "Can I try again?"

"Sure. And this time…"

Every time after, it seemed he needed to touch me to guide my movements. My hair stood on end where he touched me, but I couldn't decide if it was good or bad. On the last arrow in the quiver, he was almost completely wrapped around me to guide my movements.

"Yes!" I screamed. "It hit the target bale!"

"Wonderful," Bernando whispered, blowing warm air at my face.

He started to lean in, as though to kiss me.

Wait.

_He is going to kiss me._

I put a hand on his chest to stop him.

I step back as best I can with trembling legs.

"I- I'm sorry. I'm- I'm not ready for that. I'm sorry."

Bernando turned abruptly away.

"I think we've learned all we can for the day."

With those words, he walked away.

"You're such a slut," Georgina hisses in my ear. "Whore."

Tears fill my eyes. How can she say that?

Her voice echoing bitterly in my ears, I run to the big house, liquid slipping down my face like hot oil.

_Whore._

_Whore._

_Whore._

_Slut._

_Whore._

_Whore._

_Whore._


	16. Jar of Hearts

**_First of all: I'm sorry! I went on vacation, and I couldn't answer all the reviews like I usually do because I had one hundred frickin' nine emails to sift through._**

**_Second of all: to the two immature girls who are friends of my cousin, you should read the review my cousin left on the last chapter. It was quite rude of you to say the things you said. Like Ali said, I work hard on my writing and it is very important to me. If you must make fun of peoples' writing, write something of your own to make fun of. My work is serious. And I'll be honest: when I read those reviews, I was hurt and pissed. Two words: GROW UP.  
_**

**_Ali, thank you. To know that you are there to protect me bolsters my heart and makes me feel stronger. I love you._**

**_Third of all: This chapter is a big reason this story is rated M. There are definitely mature themes in this chapter. It's very important to the plot, but in the next chapter, I'll summarize what happened in my author's note._**

**_Read, Review, Regurgitate your favorite lines!  
_**

_Chapter XVI: Jar of Hearts_

_Am I whore?_ I wonder bitterly, slamming my door shut. _Is that how everyone sees me?_

I need a shower. They always calm me down. Hastily, I begin to strip, until all I'm in are my underwear and an old white cami. Before I lose my courage, I open my door and race across the hall to the bathroom I share with Rachel.

I peel off my camisole and stand in front of the mirror in nothing but my underwear, staring at my pathetic form. Barely A-cup chest, ribs able to be counted through the thin layer of fat, narrow shoulders, thin, straight hair, plain face, alien-ish long legs. Short. _Pathetic._

I pull my hair out of its scraggly ponytail and step out of last of my clothing. As I turn the water on and step into the flow of hot water, I consider my worth.

It's not much, obviously, but what am I good at?

_Mothering._ I'm a good mom.

_Friendship._ I'm a good friend.

That's it. I can't think of anything else.

So I shut my mind off and let the water wash away all my insecurities and losses. I hear the door open.

_Rachel,_ I figure, probably grabbing something. I try to rinse my thoughts away again, but Rachel's really making a clatter, whatever it is she's doing.

Then the shower curtain sweeps open!

_Y'know, Rachel, I like you and all, but I'm NAKED!_

I whip around, and find myself nose-to-chest with someone.

I look up quickly, angry and terrified at the same time.

_Bernando._

"Bernando!" I gasp, starting to hyperventilate. "What the Hades are you doing?"

"Taking what you won't give me," he growls, pining me to the wall in one fast move.

"Wh-what?" I manage.

"You'll never give me what I want," he continues, "so I'm just going to take it."

"Take wh-what?"

"I'm going to have sex with you," he says slowly and firmly, "whether you are willing or not."

With that, he forces his mouth on mine, rubbing his hands harshly over my breasts. I squirm and try to pull away, but he's so big and strong and capable of doing this, I can't get away.

When he pulls away for breath, his eyes hooded, I try to scream through my crying.

"N-no! Stop! P-please stop!"

Bernando smirks. He leans into my ear.

"You didn't say 'Simon says'."

"Yeah, well, Simon says get the Hades away from Torie," a strong, angry voice commands. Bernando whips around.

"Percy Jackson," Bernando says darkly. "Step away now if you want to live."

"Somehow," Percy snarls back, "I think it's the other way around." He uncaps Riptide, and three glowing feet of Celestial bronze slides from his palm. "Get away from this place now and never come back, Bernando."

"Make me," Bernando demands.

"Okay," Percy replies, a sharp glint on his face, a protective, 'get away from my baby duck' sort of look.

Does that make me a baby duck?

Why, yes. Yes it does.

In a strong swipe, Percy swings his sword over Bernando's face, chopping of the tip of his left ear and leaving a thick gash over his cheek to hip top lip. It bleeds profusely.

"Get out!" Percy orders.

Bernando grabs his clothes from the ground and sprints out.

Breathing heavily, Percy turns back to me, but then he sees something and turns his eyes to the ground.

"Torie,' he says in an almost pained voice, "can you please, _please_ put some clothes on?"

Numbly, I nod. Slowly, I pick up my cami and panties from the ground by the tub and slide them onto my wet, shivering body. Without really feeling anything, I turn off the water and sit down in the tub, feeling blank, numb.

"Torie?" Percy crouches gently in front of me. "Are you okay? Did he hurt you?"

Without a sound, I shake my head. "I'm fine…" I whisper. "I think…"

"Well, if you're okay, then I'm going to go get Annab-"

"NO!" I screech, lifting my head, feeling my eyes go wide.

"Torie, you need help. I'm just gonna go-"

"NO! NO!" I wail sharply. _He can't leave me! He can't leave! He can't! Bernando will come back! He'll come back!_

"Okay, okay," Percy soothes, putting his hands up in surrender. "I'll just stay here with you for a while." He pauses. "I probably shouldn't leave you alone, anyway."

I stare at him with wide eyes.

_Anyone could do this to me._

_Anyone._

_Well, any guy._

_But Percy wouldn't!_ a part of me argues. _He saved you!_

_Okay,_ the other part concedes. _Any guy except Percy._

_Even Nico._

_Even Nico._

_Nico._

I begin to cry earnestly, but quietly. Percy, who is determinedly staring at the shower curtain, doesn't notice until I suck in a shaky breath.

"Whoa, hey," he says in alarm. "What's wrong?"

"I'm-I-I-I'm… I d-don't know!" I whimper and wail simultaneously.

Percy climbs into the tub next to me, and sits, wrapping an arm around my shoulders loosely.

"Hey," he says softly. "It's okay. Okay? I'm right here. And if you let me go get Annabeth, she can make everything better."

"No," I whisper. "D-don't leave me al-lone."

Percy sighs. "Okay. I'm right here," he repeats.

For a long time, we just sit there, me shivering from both fear and cold, Percy just, well, sitting there.

"Y'know, you could come with me," he says casually, as if we were in the middle of a conversation. "To go get Annabeth."

"N-no," I mutter. "He's out there. Somewhere. Hurt me. Hurt you."

"He can't hurt me," Percy replies. "I'm invulnerable."

"He'll h-hurt me, any- anyway."

"Nah," Percy drawls. "I won't let him, okay, Torie?"

"No. J-just… No, ok-kay?" I manage to look Percy in the eye for a moment before my neck drops again and my chin rests on my bent knees.

Percy sighs again. "Okay," he answers finally.

For a few more minutes, we sit. Then Percy stands up and stretches.

"Where I you going?" I panic.

"To get Annabeth," he said firmly. "You can come with me or stay here."

I'm staring at him, open-mouthed, when I hear someone banging on a door across the hall- either mine or Rachel's.

"Torie!" I hear. "Torie, open up! It's Annabeth! I've got Brian!"

_Brian. _ Oh gods. I forgot about him.

I'm a shitty mother.

"Great," Percy grumbles. "I spend fifteen minutes trying to convince you to find Annabeth, and just when you're about to agree, she turns up! In here, Annabeth!"

Annabeth opened the bathroom door.

Pause.

"What. The. Hades."


	17. Bullet And A Target

_**Okay, I'm not gonna name names, but it got really annoying, really fast when people kept reviewing/messaging me to write me. I wrote a big long author's note about it, and still you guys did that. Thank you to those who did not. Future reference: don't do that. Moving on...**_

_**LAST CHAPTER REVIEW  
Bernando tried to rape Torie, but Percy saved her. Annabeth walked in as Percy was trying to convince Torie to leave with him and get Annabeth.  
**_

_Chapter XVII: Bullet and a Target_

"You," Annabeth says calmly but sharply to us, primarily Percy, "are going to tell me exactly what brought you to this point."

"Bernando-"

"I don't want to hear about Bernando. I want you tell me _what the Hades happened_."

"I'm trying!" Percy snaps. "Bernando tried to rape Torie!"

Silence.

"Oh, my gods," Annabeth whispers. "Torie, are you alright?"

"She's fine, I think- he didn't actually hurt her."

_Hah._ I touch my lips, which are tender and swollen, and think about how he had pressed on my breasts. They'll probably bruise.

"Why didn't you get help?" Annabeth demands softly, but a crease of slight panic rests on her brow.

"I couldn't leave Torie alone, and she wouldn't leave. I had just about convinced her to come with me when you finally showed up," Percy replies a bit testily.

"Mama sad?" Brian says quietly, his face worriedly pointed at me.

"Hey, Brian," Percy starts, standing up. "You wanna go get some Cheerios?"

"Heerios!" Brian cheers.

"Maybe even some fish crackers," Percy smiles, picking my son up and taking him out.

"Fish-fish!" Brian squeals.

"Yeah, that's right- fish _own_ Cheerios," I hear him say as they descend the stairs.

Annabeth comes towards me and sits on the bathtub's edge. "You alright, Tor?"

"Yes. No." I manage. "I don't know."

"That's okay, hon," she says, which surprises me. I never really thought Annabeth was the kind of person to use endearments. "We're gonna go and get you all checked up, okay?"

"No," I whisper, feeling my face scrunch up.

"You have to," Annabeth responds gently. "You can't stay here forever."

"Yes, I can," I answer petulantly. "You can't make me leave."

"Come on, Torie," Annabeth says exasperatedly. "We both know I'm going to win. Why don't you save us some time and just come?"

I stand up, wobbling a bit. "O-okay," I mumble.

She takes one look at my attire and sighs. "Let's get you some pants."

I know that it's warm outside, so why do I feel so cold? I shiver and wrap my arms just under my chest for warmth.

"Let's go to the Apollo cabin," Annabeth says quietly. "One of your siblings can give you a check-over."

Gently, she guides me in the direction of the golden cabin. "Here we are," she sighs, and knocks crisply.

The door jolts open, and Lania peers out grumpily. "Whaddya want?" she snaps.

"We need to come in and talk to your cabin leader," Annabeth replies seriously.

"Why?" Lania moans.

"We need to talk to your cabin leader," she restates firmly. "Now."

"Fine. CARLOS!" Lania hollers. "ANNABETH WANTS TO TALK TO YOU!"

"Coming!" Carlos yells back. Within five seconds, he's standing in front of us. "Yeah?"

"Can we come in?" Annabeth asks.

"Sure," Carlos shrugs, and I step in after Annabeth. I can feel Carlos' eyes on me, and I go cold all over, even though I know he's _my brother_ and _gay_ and _wouldn't do that_. My shivering goes violent. I can't control it.

"Whoa, Torie! What's wrong?" Carlos asks, touching my shoulder. A wild shriek pushes its way past my teeth, loud and frightened, even to my own ears. The shriek begins to form words.

"_Don't touch me! Don't touch me! Don't touch me!_"

Carlos backs off, hands up in surrender, but I can't stop screaming. That is, until a sharp _smack_ against my cheek shocks me into silence.

"Hold yourself together, Torie!" Annabeth demands.

"What the Hades happened?" Carlos mutters, golden eyes wide.

"Bernando tried to rape her."

"Oh, my gods," Lania whispers, her hand at her throat in shock. "Oh, my gods."

"We need to check her up… something could have… y'know, happened…"

"I don't think he actually raped her, just kissed her roughly," Annabeth replies.

"And he hurt my chest," I murmur.

Carlos gives me a pitying smile, but it doesn't help any. All I see is that wicked, assured smirk on _his _face.

"We need to get her checked over, see if there is any vaginal trauma or bruising to take care of. We also need to medicate her for any possible issues that may arise from this incident. Lania, get Amber and Jill- they're our best. I think I better stay out of this one. And you should be there, too, since you know about psychology, and you can handle the rough stuff."

Lania nods. "Yeah."

So they guide me to what most of the camp calls "the Infirmary", but what the Apollo cabin calls "the White Room". Once we're in there, I just stand dumbly.

"Lie down in the bed," Lania says gently- for her, anyway. "I'll be right back."

Bed? _Cot _would be a generous term. But I lie down on it anyway. It squeaks dangerously beneath me. Lania has already left.

Annabeth leans on the door frame, smiling sadly at me for a moment. "It'll be okay, Torie," she assures me.

I open my mouth to say, _I know that_, but what comes out instead is "How can you know that?"

"I have to hope," she replies.

"_You_ have to hope? Why? You've a perfect boyfriend who loves you that you love, you've got friends, you're beautiful, you're smart, you're strong, you're a good fighter, you're cool… what could you possibly have to hope for? You're perfect!"

Annabeth looks at me in shock. "You think _I'm_ perfect?"

"Well, you _are_."

"Gods, no, I'm not! Whatever gave you _that_ idea?"

"Um, the fact that you're good at everything?"

"Okay, stop patronizing my patient," Amber says, snapping on gloves as she enters the room with one of our sisters, thirteen-year-old Jillian Harris. Jill has shoulder-length soft brown hair and sweet brown eyes and an oval, kind face. "Annabeth, you might wanna leave."

"Right," Annabeth slipped out and closed the door.

And then it began.

"Okay, Torie, it's over," Jill says quietly, placing a hand on my knee.

_It will never be over._


	18. THIS ISN'T A CHAPTER

**THIS IS NOT A CHAPTER.**

This is an author's update of ideas.

I've been re-reading the series (again) and I was struck with a whole cacophony of things. First, the memory of how disgusted I was with my own writing on this story. I really hated myself for a while on that front. Next, the dedication of the fans of the story. Then the guilt at my (and thus Torie's) abandonment of them. Finally, a plot.

It's strikingly similar in a few ways to this story- there's a pregnant, confused, and confusing daughter of Apollo; a Nico-OC romance with potholes and yelling at the driver; insecurity from first-person. But there are differences- updated to Riordan's plots and my age, first of all, and hopefully to my writing. I've recently gained a smidgen of trust in my writing. A short story I wrote was accepted for publication in a local university's yearly anthology gathered from local schools and students, when plenty of highly capable and excellent writers' works I knew were good... were not. So maybe I won't be such a needy twerp this time around.

This is partially an acknowledgment to the amazing people who gave me more respect than I deserved, and loved my story beyond its value. It's also to see if there would be any interest. Here's my plot:

"Jensen Young doesn't have a lot going for her. For one, she's me- so I'll stop creepily being all third person. Second, I'm a thoroughly untalented daughter of Apollo. Third, I have an impossible and (I'm sure it is) completely obvious crush on a guy I can't have because of reasons like, Four, I'm pregnant and seventeen."

Let me know if you would consider reading it. Thank you for your time.

With love, the-writer-who-was-formerly-called-chrissyissy-and -is-now-not, Temporarily-Obsessed


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